


Therapy: Book One in the Doctors Smith & Saxon series

by ss9



Series: Doctors Smith & Saxon [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, twissy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 12:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2772506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ss9/pseuds/ss9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern AU: On paper Dr John Smith has it all, wealth, a prestigious career and a pretty young girlfriend. Yet a seemingly terminal case of writer's block threatens to destroy everything, his career in tatters Clara suggests therapy. Will Dr Saxon provide the solution to his problems or will she send his world further into chaos?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

-/-

He didn't want to be here, he was only here because Clara's tear filled eyes had extracted a promise that he would and although he would often lie the Doctor was not a man to break his word once he had given it. That didn't mean he had to cooperate, in fact Dr John Smith was determined to do the exact opposite. He was here as he promised; he would sit here for the allotted half an hour session that Clara had blackmailed him into with those large brown eyes of hers.

He wouldn't submit himself to questions; if necessary he would sit here in stony silence.

Then he would go home, he would allow Clara to nag him into eating something and he would smile and pretend that he had found it useful. Then he would vanish into his study to get some writing done and Clara would know he was lying. He hadn't written a word in months. Yet the study meant sanctuary. It meant shutting out the world and avoiding that disappointed look in Clara's eyes as he brushed aside her hand on his sleeve and told her to go to bed without him.

Tapping his fingers against the polished wooden arms of the armchair he was currently occupying John glanced down at the antique Rolex currently decorating his wrist. It was one of a large selection of timepieces had had collected over the years, each one purchased after a momentous occasion in his life.

This one had been picked up during that trip to New York after his third book had topped the bestseller list…another life…another man…or at least that was how he felt most days.

Yet now it's only purpose was to remind him how far the mighty had fallen, oh and to highlight that his new therapist was late, almost three minutes…three minutes that he had better not being charged for. Still it was difficult not to feel conflicted, he hated being made to wait, yet every second this Doctor Saxon took to arrive was one less second he had to spend under the microscope.

Finally the door opened and John's scowl only deepened as in walked a slender brunette with a model's cheekbones, sashaying into the room in ridiculous heels before setting down a sheaf of folders on the large mahogany desk.

"I'm sorry we are a little short-handed around here today one of the secretaries has gone down with the flu…have you been offered a coffee?" The surprisingly familiar lilt of a Scottish accent had John take a second look, and then a third as very blue eyes met his gaze with quiet confidence.

"No." John grunted dismissively, dropping his gaze and flicking a piece of lint from the cuff of his suit jacket. "But if it isn't too much trouble." He doubted this woman had been hired for her coffee making skills and his already low opinion of the absent Dr Saxon fell further.

Yet that didn't stop him from surreptitiously admiring the view as she leant over the desk and pushed the button on the intercom. It really was a nice skirt…fitted…and John pushed aside the fluttering of guilt that even by noticing such a thing he was betraying Clara. The girl who had impossibly stuck by him after everything that he had put her through over the last year, a person he still loved deeply, yet it just wasn't the same as it had been…

"Mary can you scrounge up a pot of the good coffee please?" Then with a glance back over her shoulder, ice blue eyes raking over him as John did his best to hide his surprise. "And break out some of my secret stash I think we've got a sweet tooth."

Shifting awkwardly in his chair John did his best to hide his discomfort as she turned back around, his discomfort only growing as she continued to watch him closely.

"Doctor Saxon I presume?" John was the first to break the tense atmosphere, feeling somewhat ashamed of himself for his chauvinistic mistake.

"And you must be Mr Smith?"

"Doctor John Smith…Most people just call me Doctor." John corrected her automatically his face creased in one of his customary scowls, surprised when Dr Saxon merely smiled as she sank down into the companion arm chair instead of moving to sit behind the desk like John had expected.

"Well since we are equals John perhaps we should leave the qualifications at the door. I was christened Marsaili after my grandmother but I go by Missy…and here is the coffee…Mary you are a lifesaver." Missy Saxon added just as the door opened and a mousey looking woman who had secretary written all over her bustled in and set down the coffee and a plate of…

"Are those Montrose cakes?" John's eyebrows crept up his brow as he stared down at the plate of little cakes that had been set down on the table.

"They are."

"But where do you get them from…I've been living in London on and off for years and never found them." John spluttered as he selected one of them and brought it up to his nose, breathing in the scent of nutmeg and a hint of roses.

"I have a secret supplier." Missy replied with a smirk as she picked up the cafetiere. "Now shall I be mother?"

Nodding absently John placed the tiny cake in his mouth, his tastebuds melting at the combination of flavours that evoked memories of his childhood. One of the few happy memories he could still recall from when he was very young, before the orphanage and its harsh deprivations, of his grandmother's baking filling the house with delicious smells.

"Milk?"

Startled by the sudden question that dragged him unwillingly back to the present John could only nod sharply from beneath creased eyebrows.

"Please help yourself to sugar." Missy Saxon offered before taking several cubes for herself and loading them into her coffee cup.

Clearly his surprise was reflected on his face as the slender brunette smiled as she stirred them in. "I have a poor track record with actual meals."

Nodding in understanding John mimicked her actions only he took four, staring down into the muddy depths of his coffee cup in order to avoid meeting those piercing blue eyes.

"So John what was it you came here today to talk about?"

The sudden bluntness of the question just as he was about to talk a sip of his coffee caused the Doctor to scowl.

"I didn't." He replied just as bluntly, yet it didn't seem put Missy off in the slightest as she sat there silently sipping her coffee and waiting for him to continue. Huffing slightly the Doctor hunkered down behind his cup. "Clara made the appointment not me."

"And Clara is?"

It was a good question and the Doctor tripped over the answer. Once upon a time it would have been girlfriend or partner but now…they lived together and they loved each other but the Doctor hesitated over whether that meant they were still together. After all every day when he woke up in his study alone he wondered if today would be the day Clara finally came to her senses and left him.

"A friend." That was the label that best fit these days.

"And one who you respect enough to follow her advice." Missy added evenly. "So why does Clara think you need someone to talk to?"

"I do not need therapy." The Doctor huffed his blue grey eyes turning stormy at the mere thought. "I need inspiration which is a hell of a lot more difficult to come by. It is just writer's block, once I get past it everything else will sort itself out."

"And by everything else?"

"Look I know you are only trying to do your job but I really do not intend to sit here and pour my heart out and have you pick over my bones. I came because Clara asked me to, I will stay for the half an hour but I have no intention of coming back."

"Alrighty then." Missy replied with a smile and shrug, her blue eyes glinting with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. "So since you will be here for the next twenty or so minutes how would you like to spend the time?"

"I am happy to sit in silence…"

"Now that sounds like a dull way to pass the time, how about we just talk about something else…anything you like…I won't even charge for the half an hour session." Missy added lifting her hand to fall stall the Doctor's protests. "I mean surely two well-educated and interesting persons such as ourselves would be able to hold a civil perhaps even interesting conversation?"

"Nothing personal?" John checked, relaxing a little when Missy nodded and seemed to drop a mask herself, kicking off those ridiculous heels of hers with a sigh and curled her stocking'd feet up underneath her.

Yet starting a conversation with a stranger was no longer one of his strong suits and John's eyes raked the impersonal wall of the therapist's office for something to latch on to, before his eyes lighted on the books stacked up on a chair.

"You're interested in astrophysics?" The question was tripping from his tongue and there was no hiding the incredulity in his tone.

"At the moment." Missy shrugged casually. "I'm an avid reader always have been and I cannot abide not knowing things, so at the moment its astrophysics, next week it might be art in the renaissance period. I hate being bored."

"Well some of those look a little advanced for an introduction." John replied knowledgeably. "I might suggest you try Kip Thornes book on Black Holes and Time Warps for a non-technical introduction."

"Oh I've read it and his earlier work Gravitation." Missy sighed waving. "A little dull in places but I can see why it is held up as the early bible of general relativity texts."

"But it's over 1200 pages."

"I know, hence the dull bits." Missy smirked back before reaching down and selecting one of the little cakes and popping it into her mouth with an audible sigh of pleasure. "Please help yourself." She added pushing the plate in her guest's direction after she caught him eyeing them with interest.

Caving into his sweet tooth John picked up two, enjoying the familiar taste as he sipped at his coffee, surprised how comfortable it was to sit here with this stranger.

"So are you going to tell me where you get these from?"

"I don't know it depends..." Missy replied teasingly, those piercing blue eyes of hers suddenly playful.

"On what?"

"On whether that qualifies as a personal question or not?" She added her smile turning a little wicked as John rolled his eyes yet he was unable to hide his amusement at her cheek.

"I think we can risk it." John deadpanned, "Unless of course you are a closet baker as well as an avid reader", pleased when that elicited a bark of laughter.

"Dear god no, I burn water." Missy retorted, her laughter bringing a pleasant glow to her face. "Hence the sugar/meal replacement strategy."

"Careful I think that bordered on the personal information front." John pointed out his normally stern lips twitching slightly in an approximation of a smile. "I suggest a speedy withdrawal or I will have to cut our time short and I haven't even finished my coffee, which is a shame since it is rather excellent."

"Nothing quite so controversial I assure you but might I offer a peace offering?"

"Don't tell me you have Dundee cake as well?" John reposted, his eyes twinkling in muted pleasure at the harmless verbal fencing.

"No but I know a baker that does." Missy exclaimed before uncurling herself from her armchair and padding barefoot over to her desk.

This time when she leant across the desk, her shorter height causing her to bend further to retrieve her notebook, John couldn't help but stare. That really was a lovely skirt. Only this time it was more than guilty feelings of Clara that unsettled him, it almost felt disrespectful to Missy herself and yet he couldn't not look. It was an excellent skirt after all and it stirred uncomfortable thoughts that John hadn't suffered from in quite some time…

"There you go." Missy's exclamation jarred John back to the present and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding her gaze as she returned to her seat and placed a folded note on the coffee table between him. "Now don't go passing that around or I won't be able to get my fix when I need it."

"Thank you." The Doctor replied gruffly his eyes now firmly locked on his coffee cup as he willed down certain impulses. Downing his coffee he sat the now empty cup on the table, surreptitiously glancing at his Rolex. There was only five minutes left of his original session, if he just sat here for a couple more minutes he could then start to leave.

"Do you ever regret leaving?"

Missy's sudden question threw him; it diverged completely from their non-personal commitment.

"Scotland I mean…coming to London?" Missy clarified her eyes softening slightly as she seemed to be somewhere else.

"I don't know." John answered honestly surprising them both. "It seemed like the right move at the time." And it had been mostly good to him, a prodigious career, a beautiful younger woman.

"I know what you mean. I love the opportunities here but some things still feel so alien… like the traffic… I've been here for ten years and it still surprises me how busy the streets are. Sometimes it's too hard to just breathe."

"Or think, it's so noisy, so rushed."

"And no one seems to take the time to just sit and talk, they are always plugged into some device or other and you end up feeling like you're talking to a brick wall sometimes."

Nodding along in simpatico John shared similar feelings of frustration, yet he had assumed his feelings of being out of step with the world were unique to himself. Merely the problems of a man old before his time, frustrated by his own inability to keep up…to be good enough…

"When did life get so complicated?"

"Don't ask me I'm a shrink not a sage." Missy retorted with a snort of laughter, her eyes crinkling slightly at the edges, yet these tell-tale signs of her maturity only seemed to add to her appeal not take away from it and for the first time John admitted to himself a pang of regret that this would be their first and only meeting.

He didn't need a therapist, but a friend, a kindred spirit, those he was sorely short on and London felt so isolating when your luck had turned against you.

Somewhere in the room a clock began to chime the hour and reluctantly John got to his feet, reaching down for his gabardine overcoat.

"This has been surprisingly pleasant." He offered awkwardly, now towering above the diminutive woman who still sat curled up in her chair, as he hovered about like a nervous adolescent.

"It has…thank you for the conversation. It has been a pleasure to meet you John Smith." Missy replied in her usual blunt fashion, those too blue eyes of hers gazing up at him warmly, a smile playing about her lips and John wondered how long it had been since anyone had cause to smile at him or thank him for his company?

It warmed something cold inside of him and he felt the corners of his mouth lift, stiffly as if unused to the action, yet it was technically a smile.

"You too Doc…"

"John I thought we agreed no titles." Missy chided him those blue eyes twinkling and John could actually feel a blush threatening, a man of his age.

"It has been interesting talking to you Marsaili." He replied an actual grin threatening as Missy mocked glared at him.

"Now who is taking liberties?" She huffed before getting to her feet sliding her feet back into her ridiculous heels, just as he moved to leave, before they could get to that awkward to shake hands or not moment that he hated.

"Well goodbye then."

He had almost made it a foot in the direction of the door before she had called out to him to stop.

"Wait you forgot this."

Turning around sharply John was suddenly confronted by a near collision as Missy moved towards him the moment he turned back towards her, her veering back on her heels and grasping for something to prevent a fall, his jacket, just as he automatically reached out to steady her. The moment his hand touched her hip it was like being struck by lightning, electricity ran rampant through his body locking him in position as this enigma of a woman came swinging back into his personal space.

Too bright blue eyes danced level with his nose, the sudden warmth and scent that was distinctly female and yet subtly so…roses…lovely…and he couldn't resist breathing her in.

For a moment their gazes locked and John was astonished to see his own stunned reaction mirrored in her face, her confident expression shaken, pupils darkening as their breath continued to mix. It would be so easy all he had to do was tilt his head and already he could see her mirroring his actions.

The sudden buzz of the intercom shattered the mood and John backpedalled in horror…What had he been thinking?

"Apologies Dr Saxon but your next appointment has arrived." The ever efficient Mary's voice was akin to a bucket of water being thrown, and the pair separated quickly, Missy backing into her desk and John fleeing for the door.

"I should…I'm sorry I have to leave." John stuttered, suddenly unable to meet her gaze.

"Yes…you're right I'm sorry I don't know what…well goodbye Dr Smith."

"Goodbye Dr Saxon." John embraced the return to formality even if part of him spoiled in disappointment at the sudden coolness of her tone.

As he stepped out of the office to be confronted by the every efficient and smiling Mary, the Doctor didn't even feel bad about scowling at the woman who had through no fault of her own burst his bubble and brought him crashing back down into the ruins of his real life.

Ignoring her parting words he tugged on his overcoat and stormed out into the gathering darkness of a November evening. Yet as his feet took him along wet pavements instead of hailing a cab and he was forced to dodge the bustling traffic, John found his sour mood lifting slightly. She was right there really was too much traffic but there was nothing anyone could do about it; just like it was ridiculous to let one moment of almost madness ruin what had turned out to be a better than expected afternoon.

After all nothing had really happened, just some coffee and pleasant conversation…and the sudden resurrection of a libido he had thought dead and buried along with his literary talent.

It took him almost an hour to walk home, the cool wintry air filling his lungs, the exercise clearing his mind and by the time he arrived at his front door he was almost chipper, the spark and clash of ideas beginning to germinate in his brain as his palms began to itch excitedly.

Before his key was in the door it was being opened by a concerned looking Clara who actually did a double take when he smiled at her.

"Doctor you're so late I was beginning to worry…"

"I'm fine Clara." John insisted, surprising her by pressing a light kiss to her forehead as he all but ripped off his overcoat in his hurry.

"Better than fine in fact." He added kicking off his shoes and making a beeline for his study, Clara following in his wake like a little lost duckling. "I have an idea."

"So the therapy was not as bad as you thought?" Clara persisted, her pleasure at seeing his excitement only soured by the fact that his first reaction was to pay attention to his long neglected typewriter and not her.

"We could order in some takeaway and you could tell me all about it?" She offered hopefully, her heart sinking as he merely waved her aside.

"Later Clara later." He insisted, already wrapped up in the beginnings of what he knew would be the idea that would resurrect his career and would finally repay his long suffering publishers faith in him.

Taking a seat at his typewriter the rest of the world faded away and slowly on the pages in front of him emerged the creation of his latest lead character. Her bright blue eyes gazing up at him from within the embryonic beginnings of his novel, her soft lilting words flowed from his fingers out of her lips and he could only stand back and marvel at his Marsaili; the girl who would take on the world and win.

-/-


	2. Chapter 2

Work Text:

-/-

If Missy Saxon was being honest with herself and being unfailing honest was something of a weakness with her, often being accused of being honest to the point of bluntness, honestly her date was a jerk and it was the last time she allowed herself to be set up like this.

She was sure Mary had meant well, her secretary really didn't have a mean bone in her body but just because Mary was the best coffee maker Missy had ever employed it did not mean she knew the type of man Missy was interested in. Not that Missy had any better luck herself. No all the men she might find passingly attractive were married or gay… or handsome and mysterious and clearly not interested in her…even though she had thought for a moment…

Still she had a date on a Saturday night and the only thing worse than going to a black tie event with a jerk was being stuck at home alone again with only a family size tub of ice-cream and fifty shades of grey to entertain herself with.

Besides on paper Joshua Macintosh was a good match. Educated to PhD level, the chair of physics at a prestigious university, and the author behind a series of science publications that were in the process of being turned into a BBC Four series; he even had most of his own hair left which when you got to the pool of men she was still attractive too…well it was a rarity.

He was still a jerk though and if he tried to look down the neckline of her dress or tried to put his hand on her arse one more time…well let's just say he better have voice recognition software on his computer otherwise that next book might be a little late in production after Missy accidentally broke one or two of his fingers.

"So Melissa…"

"It's Missy." Missy corrected him again reaching for her double whiskey, as she eschewed the traditional champagne at these receptions, and looked around for anything or anyone to save her.

Yet these proper publishing affairs were a little short on her usual crowd of bohemian drop outs. She doubted any of the suited and booted fellows here had ever spent a night out under the stars just to see the sun come up, or gotten the urge to run out into a rainstorm and dance.

"Sorry Missy… people are starting to go through to the tables for dinner so shall we?" Joshua asked offering her his arm in what he probably thought was a suave gesture yet which in Missy's eyes just came over as shallow and over rehearsed. Still Missy was only two fingers of whiskey down and thusly hadn't yet lost all of her social skills and so she accepted with as much of a polite smile as she could muster.

Going to the table meant other people and hopefully there would be one other person on their table that she could converse with?

So it was disappointing to find their table still relatively empty.

Joshua introduced her to his rotund publisher Douglas and his painfully slender wife Vicky who were sponsoring this and another table at the event and yet when it came to taking their seats Missy could barely contain her scowl as she was seated between her "date" and one of the two still vacant seats. Meaning unless she shouted across the table most of the evening the height of her conversation was going to be coming from the Jerk…joy…

"Are we expecting anyone else?" Missy asked Vicky politely barely masking the desperation in her voice.

"Just the Doctor and Clara…He's another one of Douglas writers." Vicky replied with a tight smile, yet with all the plastic surgery the woman had obviously undergone it was probably impossible for her to smile any other way. It also didn't take any of Missy's years of psychological training to see Vicky's opinion of this writer was less than favourable for some reason, which in the grand scheme of things could only endear him to her.

If only she could work out why the names Doctor and Clara together seemed to strike some sort of a chord? Perhaps another whiskey was in order…something to lubricate the old grey cells…

"Do you think they will actually come?" The Jerk joked, winking at Vicky in an overtly flirtatious gesture even as he had the nerve to rest his arm over the back of Missy's chair. "The last I heard the poor chap had something like a nervous breakdown."

"Actually he's doing much better." Douglas insisted shooting his wife a look that fall stalled any bitchy comment she might have been on the verge of spitting out and Missy found her opinion of Douglas improving by the second. "I've seen the first few chapters of his new book and it's another bestseller I just know it."

"Well that's good then." The Jerk replied with a tight smile, yet it was clearly obvious he meant the opposite…jealous much…Missy had to hide her snort in her glass when her date actually turned to pay her some attention.

"Ah Doctor there you are and Clara my you are looking lovelier than ever. We were starting to worry about you. Please do take your seats I think they are going to start serving dinner soon." Douglas had clearly found his missing writer, yet Missy was far more interested in flagging down one of the passing waiters.

"Apologies Douglas it was all I could do drag him away from the typewriter this evening." A soft sweet voice replied, hesitant and uncertain and Missy caught a glimpse of large brown eyes set in a delicate elfin face as she turned…

Turning to catch a waiter when she saw him…him…here…standing just by her shoulder and it seemed as though the weight and pull of her gaze caught up with him as well, those blue grey eyes went from a fleeting glance to suddenly bearing down into her own blue gaze.

If it had been anyone else in this situation Missy would have considered it almost funny.

One moment Dr John Smith was barely repressing a scowl beneath those fabulously expressive eyebrows of his then next it looked like someone had knocked the wind right out of him. He was staring, unabashedly staring and Missy felt herself shiver a little in the force of that intense gaze, the mere presence of the man was almost enough to freeze time itself.

"Doctor sit down." Clara's command was softly spoken but there was no denying the potency of her words as Dr John Smith obeyed them with a second thought and yet not once did his gaze waver from Missy herself and she could almost feel the others becoming aware of the unusual occurrence.

It was just so potent and Missy almost couldn't bring herself to be the one who broke the spell, she would have been content to drown in those eyes of his, and yet she had to for both their sakes.

"Hello Dr Smith." Missy greeted him politely. "I do hope you are well."

"Dr Saxon it has been some time." John's voice was so deep and gravelly and did wonderful things to her skin; Missy could feel goosebumps breaking out over her arms.

"Oh you know each other." The Jerk had to be the one to ask, his arm still possessively positioned over the back of her chair and Missy realised she was consciously angling herself away from him…or perhaps it was just the gravitation pull that John Smith seemed to exert on her?

"Of course all Scottish people know each other." Missy quipped and the others laughed finally breaking the awkward tension that had fallen over the table, all save the now awkward silent tension that existed between her and John Smith…and his Clara. The girl might look like window dressing at first glance but Missy could sense her strong protectiveness.

Just a friend…my arse…it was just so typical of her luck and now she was stuck next to him for the evening.

They were sat less than a foot apart yet it might as well have a mile. From being unable to stop staring at her John suddenly seemed unable to bear looking at her, her or anyone else as now his powerful gaze was boring solely into the table top those athletic eyebrows of his drawn into so deep a frown that Missy half expected the tablecloth to set alight.

"Well I am thrilled you could make it Doctor and you too Clara it seems like far too long since we have seen you." Douglas insisted catching a waiter and ordering another round of drinks for the table.

"Well we are delighted to be here aren't we Doctor?" Clara prompted yet it seemed all her other half was capable of was nodding in distracted agreement and it was left to Clara Missy noted to flush slightly in embarrassment and offer up an explanation.

"You know how he gets when someone interrupts his writing Douglas." Clara offered generously, her dark bambi eyes shifting nervously between Douglas and the Doctor who was being even more taciturn than normal.

"Well if he keeps like writing like he has been these last few weeks then I can only forgive him." Douglas replied jovially. "Every one of my editors is raving about the work you have sent in so far, so different from your last few pieces, so fresh…"

Great so now they were going to talk about something she couldn't even contribute to. Scowling Missy reached for her whiskey, taking a large sip just as Douglas continued.

"And this new heroine of yours…Marsaili she's wonderful, truly a star of the sea…"

And she choked, the whiskey went down the wrong way and it burned, oh god it burned yet that was nothing compared to the burn of humiliation…that complete arse. ..How dare he use her name?

Struggling for breath Missy did her best not to spit out the remains of her drink over the table.

"Melissa are you alright?" The Jerk at least acted concerned even if he once again mangled her name yet it was not his hand patting her bare back, there was only one other possible candidate, and that knowledge merely fuelled Missy's fury.

Why the hell did he have to have such wonderful feeling hands as well…large and strong and just a little rough to the touch? It was like having your nose rubbed in it.

"You should have stuck with champagne Melissa." Vicky's less than helpful comment did nothing but stoke the fire.

"I know I told her…"

"Would you like me to get you some water Melissa?" Clara offered helpfully even if her eyes flickered nervously between Missy's red face and the familiar way her Doctor seemed to be touching this other woman's back.

"It's Missy!" She retorted angrily pushing herself up from the table as she wrapped the shreds of her dignity around herself, retrieving her little clasp purse from the table.

"If you'll all please excuse me." Yet it wasn't a request and Missy didn't wait for permission, storming away from the table as though a devil were on her heels.

It wasn't until she was in the relative sanctuary of the ladies room that Missy could actually breathe again. Staring up at her reflection in the large ornate mirror Missy ran her hands over her enflamed face, cheeks that burned with a combination of outrage and humiliation. She could not go back out there. She was not going back out there. If she went back out there someone was going to be on the receiving end of a Glasgow Kiss and that was just for starters.

Probably Mr Jerk or Silicon Vicky...although the prospect of clawing up pretty Miss Clara's face also appealed to a darker part of her…

No…No…she was not going down that path, not again. Violence was not the answer to her problems even if felt so damn good at the time.

Yet part of her blamed herself for even putting herself in this situation to start with. She was a confident professional woman; she had managed perfectly well for the last ten years without a man by her side. She hadn't wanted one not after Theodore; no one could have hoped to compete with her childhood sweetheart. No one could ever fill a room up like he could and Missy had never felt complete anywhere but at his side and by some miracle he had felt the same and it had all been wonderful up until the accident…

She hadn't even been that bothered by her single status until recently…until that damn man had walked into her office and reminded her exactly what she was missing. John Smith that man had a lot to answer for, first he awakens something that Missy had been quite happy ignoring for years, and then he pushes her into humiliating herself in public.

God she wanted to just wrap her hands around his neck and…

Well there were far too many things she wanted to do to John Smith and that was the heart of the problem.

Well she just had to forget him and that started by getting the hell out of here. It had been a terrible date so far anyway, she really didn't care about leaving the Jerk in the lurch, let him perve all over Vicky for the evening. She doubted anyone else at the table would care, besides it would at least give them something to talk about, the boring bunch.

Checking her reflection once more Missy was satisfied that no trace of the incident lingered upon her face, picking up her clutch and reassembling her armour she was ready to face the world once more and so she confidently pushed open the bathroom door, her momentum taking her two…three strides forward and then she saw him. Standing there half hidden in the shadows…watching and waiting, for her apparently and Missy felt her previous fury return times ten as hot as John Smith elegantly pushed his long frame away from the wall and approached her.

"I just wanted to check you were alright." He began carefully, those beautiful blue grey eyes of his sweeping over her body as if checking for any lingering damage and Missy hated herself for the way his voice and attention still affected her, already she could feel her nipples hardening against the silky fabric of her dress.

"Besides I think we need to… talk…" He added and Missy knew without having to check just where his gaze was currently resting.

This had to stop now.

Stalking forward Missy noticed the moment he picked up on her anger, yet instead of looking even a little contrite the damn man had the nerve to stare back at her in the same superior calm manner…and was that a hint of amusement glinting in those eyes of his?

"Go to hell!" Missy hissed her pointer finger jabbing her fingernail sharply into his chest to emphasis every word, then turning sharply she began her triumphant exit.

In her head it was the perfect parting shot, she at least had the satisfaction of that, until one of those large strong hands wrapped itself around her upper arm and instead of leaving under her own steam she was now being propelled out of the doors by him.

She should have wrenched herself free; she should have demanded he let her go. Yet it seemed when it came to John Smith her willpower was none existent, clearly he was her kryptonite, but unlike superman she didn't even have the desire let alone the will to resist.

-/-

John couldn't remember the last time someone had gotten him good and angry. He had spent much of his life frustrated with those around him; people were just too slow and difficult to deal with on the whole…too stupid and selfish so was it any wonder he preferred the company of his own characters?

So in the place of strong emotional reactions ennui had set in and John had drifted into being an observer of life rather than a participant.

Yet it seemed Missy Saxon was the exception to that rule amongst others. No one had spoken to him like that in years; no one would dare save this spitfire of a woman with her too bright blue eyes. Still that was no excuse for the fury currently coursing through his body. Perhaps it was having his apology thrown back in his face?

He was not a man to vocalise his feelings easily, he never had been, and his grandmother had often remarked he would prefer to swallow his own tongue rather than admit to some fault. Over the years his intelligence had placed him in the enviable position of rarely being wrong, or at least having to admit to a mistake. Personally his tactics of avoidance had extended to emotional situations and John had rarely allowed anyone close enough that he felt the need to mind his behaviour enough to apologise when he made a mistake.

Yet he had felt bad at the table when Missy had choked. He was the only one who could have known the reason, could have known he was the cause of her shock and embarrassment. He had taken her name and her image and if he was being honest the first impressions of her and turned them into his latest character, something he had never done before, and he hadn't even had the courtesy to inform her of the fact or more to the point to ask her permission.

The uncomfortable feeling of guilt had settled in his stomach and John had been in the position of ignoring it and trying to choke down five courses of dinner on top of it or…he could at least offer an explanation...an apology to a woman he had come to admire in the half an hour they had spent in conversation, and the woman who had gracefully offered him a easy way out of what could have potentially been an awkward situation just moments before.

So he had excused himself from the table, guilty ignoring Clara's questioning expression as he abandoned her to the mercies of their dinner companions. He had skulked in the shadows outside of the ladies bathroom like some sort of pervert, his hands steadily getting clammier as he tried to run through in his head just what he was going to say.

Then before he had more than his first line Missy was striding out of the door and his superior brain failed him…damn she really was wearing the hell out of that dress…and the uncomfortable memory of just how soft her skin had been under his fingertips resurfaced and he was reduced to the state of a babbling fool. Yet none of that justified her reaction. How dare she tell him to go to hell?

He wasn't sure what had possessed him to follow her again, let alone take hold of her like he had done, yet the die had been cast and John was being swept along on a wave of anger and insulted pride. Perhaps it was simply his inability to allow anyone else the last word raising its ugly head or was it just another excuse to touch her and feel that bolt of electricity thunder through him. He clearly wasn't the only affected, he had seen enough to confirm that and it filled him with a heady sort of power that drowned out the rational centres of his brain.

Clara…Clara would be wondering where he was…

Pushing Missy out of the double doors John steered them out of the lobby and away from the milling people, for a moment he paused then destination in mind he barrelled along pulling Missy along with him. She at least had the good sense to try and keep up and not make a scene in front of all these people.

After a few steps up to the mezzanine level John led her into the now empty snug bar, pushing her down into one of the chesterfield leather booths he stared down into her angrily flushed face for a moment before taking a seat himself and waving over the waiter.

"Two glasses of single malt, Oben if you have it or Lagavulin, a dash of water no ice."

"Very good sir, we do have a bottle of Oben distillers' edition…" The waiter trailed off.

Staring down into Missy's gaze that seemed to mock him John couldn't tear his gaze away from those blazing blue eyes, merely nodding.

"Make them doubles." Missy countered and John had to quell a snort of amusement, she was going for her pound of flesh after all.

"Very good Madam."

Waiting until they were once more alone John swallowed down the nerves that were once again fluttering in his stomach. Well she was here, he was here… "You're very quiet."

"I have said all I intended to say."

"Yes I recall you were very rude."

"Mr Pott meet Mr Kettle." Missy mockingly retorted and John had to clench his jaw to restrain an equally flippant reply.

Fortunately their ever efficient waiter chose that moment to reappear with their drinks and then vanish just as quickly.

Picking up his drink John stared down into the amber depths, taking a sip of the strong alcohol and feeling it burn warmth all the way down to his stomach. "I didn't intend to make you angry."

"Really what exactly did you expect on finding out you had used my name?" Missy's eyes glinted dangerously as she sipped at her whiskey, it was definitely the good stuff and it was rare to find someone who could appreciate that.

"Flattered?" John snorted, watching as Missy's eyes narrowed as though assessing a target.

"Yes well I am sure you would be equally as flattered if I included a test case about a paranoid narcissist called John Smith in one of my journal papers?"

"Touché." John had to remark, his gaze flicking back up to meet Missy's. "It really was meant as a compliment you know."

"And how exactly would I know that? God knows what you have been writing; I could be a syphilis ridden whore for all I know?"

"I can assure you that you are not." John replied softly. "I am very protective of my creations and Marsaili is probably one of my finest, I think, no I know you would be proud to allow her to carry your name."

"You still could have told me." Missy pouted yet there was no longer venom lacing her tone and John couldn't help but sigh in relief as the anger seemed to seep out of her.

"I'm sorry." The words tripped easily off his tongue, so easily that for a moment John hadn't even realised he had said them out loud.

"Then you are forgiven on one condition." Missy insisted a half smile playing about her lips as she brought her glass to her lips.

"Just how much whiskey is this going to cost me?" John asked nervously surprised when his innocent question caused Missy to giggle and he realised how much he liked the sound.

"I want you tell me about your book."

Shaking his head John couldn't agree to this, he never talked about his books, not whilst he was writing them he only even sent drafts into the publishers this time because he had needed to prove he was actually writing again. "Oh no…no I don't…"

"Then you're not forgiven and I may have to sue you." Missy insisted blue eyes glinting mischievously and for a moment the similarity between the woman before him and the woman who had been living in his head the past few weeks was so stark that it took John's breath away.

"On what grounds?" John stuttered struggling to keep his wits about him.

"I'll find something darling." Missy retorted smugly and John felt his blood pressure spike as she drawled over her endearment, there was something so very predatory about the way she said it and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"There isn't time to do it justice…"

"Then meet me for coffee, Monday at two, the bakery I told you about."

He shouldn't…he should politely refuse and yet John found himself nodding.

"Well then it's a date." Missy retorted lifting her glass to her lips and drowning the last of the amber liquid and John could only watch mesmerised as traces of the liquid remained on her lips. "Thank you for the drink but I really must be on my way…"

"Yes we should be heading back in…"

Clara…God Clara would be worried sick and when he walked back in with Missy…he would have to explain how he knew her and why he went after her and Clara already had a difficult enough time accepting how single-minded he was about his writing. If she had any idea that his latest obsession had been inspired by an actual person…

"Actually do you mind if I don't accompany you?" Missy asked softly a faint sheen of pink gracing her cheeks, and John wasn't sure if it was from the double whiskey she had all but downed or from the memory of her earlier exit but it suited her and he almost felt guilty for noticing. "I would much rather take the opportunity to sneak out."

"Oh…right…of course…Well good night then." John stuttered, inwardly relieved beyond words when Missy stood, leaving him to fumble with his wallet to pay the bill to once again avoid the awkwardness of leave taking rituals that he hated. Congratulating himself on an awkward situation avoided until Missy's parting words brought him back to earth with a bump.

"Night John… I'll see you Monday."

-/-


	3. Chapter 3

Affinity

-/-

It was just coffee, cake and conversation. So why did the prospect make his stomach clench?

Dr John Smith was a man who kept his word, yet if he was being honest keeping his word wasn't the only reason he was keeping this appointment as hidden beneath the churn of nerves there was a spark of something else; a part of him was curious and the Doctor had never been able to restrain his curiosity. As a boy he had gotten himself into far too many scrapes because he wanted to know how something worked, or where that road went, or what happened if you poked that…

It was almost a miracle that he had survived to reach his fifties he pondered before quickly supressing the dark thought that as always lurked on the edge of his consciousness, the one that reminded him that he almost hadn't.

Digging his fingers into the soft leather of his desk chair John quickly ran through the calming breathing exercises that someday felt like they were the only thing standing between him and a complete nervous breakdown. He wasn't going to think about that, not now, not ever if he had his way. He just had to find a way to live with it and in some ways he had. Just recently he had made considerable progress in reclaiming some of his former life…his writing was his lifeline and now that was once again flowing and John had something on which to focus his mind, something to stop him dwelling on the bad thoughts.

He had even managed to leave the house now on several occasions without the need for an escort, although finding the motivation and courage to do so often took most of the morning to achieve. Small steps…that's what was needed…every day taken on its own merits and not compared to what had come before, to what he had been before.

Seated in front of his trusty typewriter John ran his fingers lovingly over the keys, he still preferred to write on the old girl instead of moving on to some fancy laptop. There was just something so solid and dependable about the old model 40 and John was certain he did better work because of it, because he had to take the time to think about what he wanted to write rather than just rattling off anything that could then be deleted at a whim. So what if he had to replace worn out keys and type settings himself, John enjoyed the excuse to get out his screwdriver and tinker.

Yet John didn't dare start writing today. He knew himself only too well and once he was immersed in his work then it would take a crowbar to prise him away and he didn't dare miss his appointment with Missy Saxon…It was only a suspicion, an inkling that John had, but his gut told him that Missy was not a woman he wanted angry with him…he imagined her means of revenge could get a little creative. It was a strange thought but even stranger was that it made him smile. Missy Saxon let loose would be a sight to see, providing it wasn't him she was attacking; he was only curious not an idiot.

"Doctor?"

Startled from his thoughts John glanced up from his desk, surprised to see Clara already stood in the doorway. Laden down with a satchel full of completed marking and buttoned into her coat, watching him with a fond if slightly exasperated expression on her face that already had John feeling guilty before she chastised him for whatever he had done wrong this time.

"Yes Clara?" He asked innocently, leaning back in his chair and interlacing his fingers, a superior frown gathering between his impressive eyebrows.

"Don't you glare at me like I was one of your old undergraduates." Clara tutted shifting her battered brown satchel on to her shoulder before waving one of her little hands around expressively. "What exactly happened in here, did a tornado hit Chelsea and I missed it?"

"Ahh…" The Doctor shifted uncomfortably, his blue grey gaze taking in the current state of his study. It had seen better days. "I had misplaced something…" And he had it had taken turning his study upside down most of Sunday afternoon before he had found the piece of paper with the name and address of the Scottish bakery written on it.

"And that's an excuse for not putting anything back?"

"It took me a long time to find it." The Doctor defended. "And I will put everything back…eventually…"

"And by eventually you actually mean today?" Clara prompted pointedly, her own eyebrows raised. "The cleaner comes tomorrow and she won't touch this room if it's like this and I already pick up around the rest of the house…"

"Clara it won't kill me if this place isn't vacuumed and dusted every week." The Doctor huffed. "Besides you know I don't like having other people in here…touching and moving things…"

"Which is why you need to at least stack this out the way, Constance wouldn't need to move anything if you left her enough room to navigate with and do we really need to have another conversation about the mugs? About how their proper home when the tea has gone cold is in the dishwasher or at the very least moved into the kitchen."

"Fine I'll move the mugs." The Doctor huffed, conceding this much if it would stop the nagging, it wasn't really that difficult a task he just genuinely forgot most of the time.

Standing up he gathered the few half-finished cold cups of tea that were loitering in between piles of paper, juggling them expertly he headed towards the doorway which Clara was loitering in.

"You look nice." Clara commented abruptly and the Doctor stopped just as abruptly.

"Thank you." He replied awkwardly, glancing down at the three piece dark grey suit and soft blue tie that he had chosen with unusual care that morning.

"You're going out?"

It was phrased like a question but it was rhetorical. When languishing in front of his typewriter all day John barely bothered to shave let alone take much care with his clothing. He normally threw on a pair of dark jeans and whatever shirt was clean, occasionally a hooded jacket if the study was a little cold. Yet when he stepped outside of the house the Doctor liked at least to maintain the façade of his previous self, he had a wardrobe full of suits tailored by some of the leading gentleman's outfitters across the globe. His clothing was his armour and he couldn't step outside without it on.

"Just some research." The Doctor mumbled awkwardly, forcing a smile to cover the lie, as he bustled Clara out of the doorway and headed down the stairs to the basement kitchen.

Hearing Clara following him on the steps John took the mugs over to the Belfast sink, dumping the dregs of the tea down the drain, even swilling out the stained cups with cold water before beginning the laborious task that was working out the dishwasher. The damn thing didn't like him he was certain it never seemed to work properly when he used it, Clara always maintained that was because he had never taken the time to read the bloody manual and that if he had then it was surprisingly straightforward to operate.

"Well I hope you find what you need." Clara offered and John ignored the hopeful tone to her voice as he made more of his chore than was needed.

"Yeah thanks."

He could see her standing there awkwardly in the edge of his peripheral vision. Clearly she was waiting for something from him. A hug perhaps or a goodbye kiss…the old him would have obliged, he had been tactile once. Yet now the thought of observing those sorts of enforced social niceties set his teeth on edge, even with her he just couldn't bring himself to.

"So I'll just be…" Clara sighed softly and the Doctor felt like a complete cad as he nodded and kept his gaze locked on stacking the dishwasher. "I will be a little late home tonight, parents evening and some of the staff are thinking of going out for drinks afterwards at The Crown to you know commiserate. You could come and join us; we could get dinner on the way home?"

"I'll see." The Doctor offered non-committal, yet they both knew he wouldn't.

They both knew and they both lied to each other and themselves. Every day they lied and kept on living a lie, yet they let it go on because the lies were easier than the truth. The lies were comfortable and familiar and meant they could avoid having to face difficult decisions. The Doctor lied because he was selfish, because knew without Clara here there would be no one who cared enough to make sure he got up in the morning, that he ate at least once a day and occasionally cleared his study out of mouldy tea cups.

She was his life support machine, she had kept him alive the last twelve months, yet that was really only surviving not living but it was enough for John. If he could survive and he could somehow still write then that would be enough. He couldn't bring himself to strive for more, not even for Clara. It was bitter truth that he was too much of a selfish coward to speak aloud but Clara would be much better off cutting him loose, he was nothing more than a leech. Yet he swallowed it down, avoided anything that might remotely hint at intimacy and feigned ignorance when it hurt her because while he lied she stayed.

The only thing that confused him was why Clara kept on lying?

That he wasn't so sure of. Yet he suspected her lies were born of selflessness unlike his. She kept on lying to herself that things were going to return to how they had been between them; that somehow she would get her Doctor back. Yet the Doctor knew that version of John Smith was dead, he had died in a hostage camp in Somalia when another man had taken the bullet intended for him, him the one who wouldn't shut up or stop causing trouble and it cost others their lives.

"I'll see you later." Clara offered with forced enthusiasm, impetuously leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek…a kiss that John couldn't help but flinch from and an apology stuck in his throat as her bottom lip trembled, those damn eyes of hers turned glassy for a moment before she regained control and once again forced a false smile.

"Bye then."

"Bye." John whispered softly as her footsteps faded on the kitchen steps, before taking his guilt and frustration out on the damn dishwasher which gave a worrying groaning noise when he kicked it.

Shoving his hands into his pockets to stop himself from slamming them into the worktop and causing more damage John once again found himself repeating his breathing exercises…in through the nose…one two three…out through the mouth…one two three…and repeat.

Finally calm enough he pulled his clenched hands out, cursing as this emptied the odds and ends in his cavernous jacket pockets on to the kitchen floor…a tissue…a loose breath mint…a playing card…god knows how long that had been in there…oh and finally the little hand written note that he had turned his study upside down hunting for. Staring down at the elegant slanted handwriting John forced himself to focus on his upcoming meeting with Missy and not his uncomfortable exchange with Clara. He would need all his wits about him to handle Missy Saxon, he couldn't afford to get distracted by things he couldn't change.

-/-

He was five minutes early, it was another mark in John Smith's favour as Missy Saxon couldn't abide other people who turned up late…she naturally was another matter, in Missy's opinion that she turned up in the first place should be enough for other people. Still she did make an effort to be on time for the things that mattered, and meeting John Smith for coffee definitely fell into that category. That the little bakery and coffee shop was only a few streets away from her office just made it easier for her, and Missy was already three quarters of the way through her first cup of coffee by the time she was due to meet John.

Besides she had waited for him to arrive before she ordered anything sweet though, that was only polite.

So now seated inside her favourite little nook at the table tucked upstairs with the comfy seats, a half-finished copy of some tawdry French romance novel abandoned on the table, Missy allowed herself to indulge in the fascinating exploit of watching John Smith when he didn't know she was. It was really amusing how many times he checked his watch as he stood outside, his dexterous long fingered hands were never still, even when waiting he was either taking them in and out of his pockets to check his watch or fiddling with that gorgeous silver grey hair of his.

Once again he looked immaculately dressed and Missy enjoyed running her gaze freely over his long limbed frame before she reminded herself quite forcefully that John Smith was not available…well not freely available…there was the pretty Miss Clara in the picture somewhere, not that Missy was certain exactly where the young woman did fit, but it was certainly something more than the friend that John had described her as; an ex maybe?

Finally as if able to feel the weight of her gaze upon him John Smith looked up, those thunderously expressive eyebrows of his pulling down to a point as their gazes met and he huffed in annoyance before disappearing from her view as the shop bell tinkled.

A few moments later and the scowling man was dropping like a stone into the opposite arm chair.

"I suppose you thought it was funny leaving me to wait out there in the cold?" John snapped. His irritation at being made to think he had been stood up spilling over into his mannerisms as he all but flung his coat off like a scolded diva.

Yet if Missy cared about his sour tone or expression she didn't reveal it, in fact a slight smile danced for a moment about her painted lips before she raised her gaze and those bright blue eyes pinned him firmly in place.

"Have you finished sulking? I mean heaven forefend you thought to check inside the shop before waiting in the cold." Missy retorted matter-of-factly.

"You could have come and gotten me." John huffed, still scowling out from beneath his eyebrows yet most of the bite had gone from his tone to be replaced by a hint of pique.

"Yes but then I would have gotten cold." Missy pointed out bluntly raising her coffee cup to her lips and wincing as she took a sip of the now tepid liquid. "Just like my coffee…urrghh." She added with exaggerated disgust setting it down as she wrinkled her nose. "Well good job I was getting up anyway. Americano?"

Nodding distractedly John slumped further down into the comfy armchair as Missy stood and vanished back downstairs into the little shop, left alone for a moment he allowed his gaze to travel. It was quaint, a little shabby, not the sort of place that he would normally give a second look at least in London but there was something almost homey about and the wall lined with bookshelves filled with well-worn paperbacks almost reminded him of one of his favourite undergraduate hidey-holes.

Yet it was the paperback that was currently lying open on the table top that really got his attention…that didn't look like astrophysics…

Glancing quickly over his shoulder John slipped his hand over to the book, picking it up he squinted at the words for a moment before his brain made the connection that it wasn't in English. John had always had a talent for picking up languages, he had travelled extensively during his life and could make himself understood in most countries, there were several that he spoke well enough to hold a proper conversation in but he had never translated that oral skill into learning to read or write another language. Flipping over the book to squint at the cover John immediately wished that he hadn't, in his wildest dreams he hadn't expected Missy to be reading something like that! Not in public at least.

"I'll lend it to you when I'm finished if you like?" An amused voice echoed from the stairwell and John could feel his embarrassment multiply as Missy Saxon returned, setting their coffee mugs down on the table before taking the seat opposite him.

"It's total trash of course but somehow the French seem to pull that off with so much more aplomb…oh and the sex scenes are quite inventive, I would never have thought to use a saddle like that..."

"I think I will pass thank you." John spluttered shoving the offending book back across the table like it had burnt or could contaminate him just by its mere presence.

"Suit yourself." Missy replied glibly from over the rim of her coffee cup, her eyelids falling shut for a moment as she breathed in the heavenly aroma of freshly brewed hot coffee, already she could feel it firing the synapses of her brain causing thoughts to go whizzing about at double speed.

"Do the two of you want to be alone?" John snorted unable to tear his gaze away from the look of quiet rapture on her face that was so very compelling for some unknown reason.

Raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow as she opened her eyes and fixed them on a far too amused John Smith Missy waited until the man in question was just taking a sip from his own cup before replying silkily. "No need I am perfectly comfortable with the concept of a threesome."

Spluttering and choking on the hot liquid John had no choice but spit undignified his mouthful of hot coffee back into his cup. Wiping away the dribbles from his chin with the back of his hand he scrambled in his pocket for the old crumpled tissue to clean himself up before turning the full force of his glare on Missy who strangely enough seemed to find the situation more and not less amusing by the second.

"That was juvenile."

"Yes it was but it was also very funny." Missy batted back, shrugging off John Smith's glower with the ease of years of practice with grumpy Scotsmen. "Besides maybe it will be a valuable life lesson about not prying." She added pointedly, picking up her saucy novel and putting it away in her bag.

"So John Smith…" Missy drawled slowly her eyes openly and slowly scrutinising the man in front of her, prickly, quick to temper and equally quick to soothe, surprisingly innocent or at least shockable for a man of his years, and gorgeous did she forget to mention that?

Oh he might not fit the typical profile, he wasn't George Clooney, most people would say he was too tall too thin, his face too pale and worn, his nose too big but none of that was John Smith. John Smith was the magnetic force wearing that face and body, he was those glinting blue grey eyes that seemed to pick up everything, the clever dexterous hands that even now couldn't stop moving and touching…the cup…the table…fiddling with his cuff…

Was she ever going to finish that sentence? Resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny of that bright blue gaze John forced himself to relax, turning his attention to his coffee which was rather good and then a moment later when a veritable delight of cake was delivered to their little table he had something else to study.

"Peace offering?" John offered pushing the old fashioned cake stand in Missy's direction first.

Unable to contain her smile or her eye roll Missy reached out and took a slice of shortbread, biting into the delicious buttery treat that melted in her mouth. Only John Smith would propose a truce with the cakes she had bought in the first place.

"Just like mother used to make." Missy sighed in contentment as the sugar did its work.

"Grandmother." John was amending before he could stop himself, then at the unspoken question in her eyes he offered quietly. "I was raised by my maternal grandparents my mother didn't…wasn't around much."

Missy could guess at the rest, illegitimate probably, with his mother either working away to support the family or having abandoned her responsibilities. "You're from Glasgow aren't you?" She asked waiting for John to either confirm or correct her before continuing, when he nodded slowly she added. "That must have been an interesting place to grow up?"

"You mean as the bastard protestant child in a predominantly catholic neighbourhood?" John snorted sarcastically. "Yeah it was interesting as you say."

"Believe me growing up as the youngest daughter of an alcoholic unemployed shipbuilder wasn't a barrel of laughs either." Missy countered refusing to allow his prickliness to put her off. "And I wasn't being sarcastic; for those of us in Ayr Glasgow was the height of exotic, believe me."

Leaning back in his chair John was forced to concede he might have jumped the gun a little there. He was naturally defensive about his upbringing, it hadn't been a particularly happy one and it wasn't something he was keen to revisit. When he had passed the exams to attend the boy's grammar school John had all but refused to talk about his family to his fellow pupils, they all came from mainly affluent middle class families. He was lucky that with a name like John Smith he could simply fade into the wood work if he wanted, and he became the quiet studious boy always found in the library reading and dreaming about other places.

"Sorry." John mumbled awkwardly relieved when Missy merely waved it off.

"It's alright I don't talk about my family either." Missy conceded with a sigh. "I left Scotland ten years ago and other than occasionally missing the quiet I have done my best not to look back…" She added surprising them both when her voice broke a little at the end and she covered up her moment of vulnerability by fussing with her coffee cup.

Frowning slightly John couldn't help but do the math in his head, ten years would have put her in her late twenties maybe early thirties, he really was terrible at judging anyone's age. Yet he couldn't help being curious. "Why did you leave? Why then and not before?" He clarified when Missy looked a little startled by the personal question.

For a moment Missy considered ignoring the question entirely and yet there was something about John Smith that almost made her want to open up and reveal all of the dark twisted past that she had tried so hard to forget. Perhaps it was the strong sense of affinity; the almost palpable sense that if anyone could understand he would. Instead she settled for an honest if cryptic reply.

"I never planned to…I had a life but then things went wrong and I guess I was just running away from bad memories."

Nodding in understanding John of all people could comprehend that, yet instead of running he had chosen hiding, who was he to say which was healthier. "Not therapy then?" He asked unable to contain a snort of amusement as Missy shot him a look that was pure disdain.

"Doctors are the worst people at taking care of their own health." Missy countered pointedly unable to resist returning the impish smile that John shot her before he popped a Montrose cake into his mouth. "I think that applies true in all areas of the field."

For a moment they sat there in a surprisingly easy silence, Missy sipping her coffee, John slowing making his way through most of the cakes his adorable eyebrows doing interesting little shuffles each time he tried something new. If she let him Missy suspected he would eat his way through the entire stand, the man was clearly a sugar junky and for a moment Missy had a vision of a much younger version all hyped on sugar babbling on at a hundred miles a minute as he wiggled about unable to keep still for a second. Yet when he reached for the last Montrose cake her indulgence had reached its limit and Missy leant forward and smacked his fingers.

"Hey!" John spluttered, startled more by the sudden contact than he was injured by her blow, even if she hadn't exactly been gentle.

"Well stop hogging them!" Missy hissed before snatching up the last Montrose cake, sticking her tongue out at John peevishly before popping the delicacy into her mouth, a wide smile playing about her lips as she munched it and reached for another cake.

It was ridiculously childish but John couldn't resist it, snatching up the piece of shortbread before Missy could and taking a large bite, moaning loudly in appreciation as she glared daggers at him.

"You are such a child!"

"This from the grown woman who stuck her tongue out at me!"

"You deserved it cake hogger!"

Unable to resist it or suppress the laughter that bubbled up inside of him John Smith laughed, out loud, the rough rasping noise surprising to even his own ears and yet it warmed him in a way he hadn't felt warm in forever and when it was joined by Missy's loud uninhibited bark of laughter followed by surprisingly girlish giggles John could feel his mouth hurt from smiling quiet so hard. And from then on it was surprisingly easy, the time passed by at a far too strident pace and it wasn't until John glanced out of the window and noted the quickly darkening sky that he realised just how long they had been there.

A glance at the leather and silver Breitling adorning his wrist today John was stunned by the lateness of the hour. He would need to be leaving, at this rate Clara might even make it home before him and then there would be awkward questions to answer, answers John selfishly didn't feel like supplying. He had enjoyed himself, and he didn't fancy having that memory soured by an uncomfortable interrogation.

"I suppose we really should be making a move." Missy spoke first and John was gratified to hear her reluctance matched his own.

"It's getting late and I have a dinner date to dress for." She added with equal enthusiasm as they both stood and gathered their coats, and John couldn't help his reflexive frown, it wasn't rational but for a moment the idea of Missy on a date bothered him and John covered the difficult emotion by insisting on paying for their refreshments despite Missy's protests.

"A gentleman would never allow anything else!" John insisted cutting off Missy's protest with a phrase his grandmother drilled into him at length during his childhood. Then to emphasis his point he even held the door to the bakery open for her.

The cooling November air was invigorating and John almost found himself looking forward to the walk back home, it would take him the best part of an hour but John couldn't stomach the idea of public transport and at this time of day taking a cab could almost take as long.

"You know you still haven't told me anything about your book John Smith."

Missy sudden observation brought John up short and he turned to stare down at the smiling bundled up brunette.

"No I guess I didn't…" He replied amazed with himself that he had seemingly completely forgotten the real reason he had come here in the first place.

"Well there is always Thursday I suppose?" Missy countered airily choosing to ignore the puzzled expression on John's face as she stepped forward and managed to flag down a passing taxi.

"Why what is happening Thursday?" John spluttered his confusion merely growing as Missy spoke to the cab driver and pulled open the back door all without paying him the slightest scrap of attention.

"You're meeting me for coffee again."

"I am?" John questioned, stepping forward as Missy vanished into the voluminous black hole of the Hackney's back seat. "Missy I…"

"Here Thursday Two O'clock!" Missy commanded imperiously her blue eyes glinting with mischief, savouring the combination of stunned bemusement on John's handsome face. "And don't you dare stand me up John Smith or I might have to consider suing you after all!"

-/-


	4. Chapter 4

-/-

It was cold outside today and he would need to dress appropriately. For the first time it almost felt like winter, the autumn had been so unusually mild that it had even confused the trees. Yet it seemed that with the approach of the festive season winter had decided to bite finally and it had bitten hard. What had once been green pockets of London parkland now resembled thousands of tiny little frost covered fangs bared at the sky just waiting to sink themselves into the unwary traveller.

Dr John Smith stood in front of the hall mirror fiddling nervously with a deep blue cashmere scarf. At first leaving it thrown around his neck like some sort of jetsetter, but the damn thing just kept on flopping back. So in the end he settled for leaving it hanging around his neck with the ends neatly tucked into his long gabardine overcoat. He looked far too Ivy League for his own tastes but he didn't dare leave the house without the damn scarf as God knows Clara would never let him hear the end of it if he got sick right before Christmas.

And he was already doing more than enough things that Clara wouldn't approve of, the Doctor didn't dare to add another thing to the list.

He shouldn't be doing this. The first time could almost be forgiven; after all he had taken the first step down this path when he had used her name and image for his latest heroine without getting her permission; so most people would agree that it would only be polite to rectify that situation once the opportunity to do so had presented itself.

It had been perfectly reasonable and innocent…and yet he hadn't told Clara that he was going anywhere or that he was meeting anyone. She was at work and he was a grown man after all. So what if he was meeting a woman for coffee, it was business, and he had had hundreds of business meetings over the years many with attractive women? It didn't have to mean anything.

The only stumbling block to that argument was that he hadn't expected to enjoy it…to enjoy Missy Saxon quite as much as he did…does…

Because he does really enjoy her, enjoy her in the way that you do when you seemingly discover something almost accidentally that engages you so completely that you lose all track of time. It was a feeling that the Doctor had really only experienced when he was lost in the creation of his own work, the feeling of euphoria when the words were flowing so freely that even his fingers struggled to keep up.

Missy had him struggling to keep up half the time, the woman was like a whirlwind given human form, one minute they could be arguing the relative merits of Shakespeare vs Marlow the next she had changed the subject and was holding forth on some new form of constructed Japanese poetry. For the first time the Doctor had some idea of what it must have been like for people meeting him back when he was…well the way he had been… the way he was before…before Somalia.

It was a high being around someone who could think and vocalise her thoughts on the same level as him, like drink or drugs only better because instead of numbing his mind she stimulated it, and now only too late he had begun to notice the signs of his addiction.

That one coffee date and conversation had spiralled into two; then she had cajoled him into meeting up at Hyde Park and taking a walk. Nothing wrong with a walk and Clara was always goading him into taking more exercise. Then it was a gallery exhibit he would never have come across on his own, a street poetry reading…always something new and interesting but always that feeling of affinity.

He craved that feeling, that feeling of being touched by brilliance, of being interested and excited by the world around him again instead of feeling afraid and isolated. So now he couldn't stop, he knew he should, he knew that every time he came home feeling elated rushing back to his typewriter because his outing had inspired some new twist and idea. He knew it when Clara's face fell a little bit more every day and he felt the tug of guilt at his heart. Yet he pushed that guilty feeling away, shoved it down because he wasn't doing anything really wrong.

It wasn't like he was having an affair.

They didn't even touch outside of occasional taps on the shoulder or if they both went to open the door at the same time…or that one time he had put his hand in the small of her back when they popped into to listen to the little jazz ensemble rehearse in that dingy little underground club and Missy had wobbled precariously on her unsteady barstool as she leant over to whisper in his ear. He had only reached out to steady her and had only left it there because that stool was precarious and well it hadn't felt wrong at the time.

Missy Saxon was a friend…a good friend…an interesting friend…so why shouldn't he spend time with her?

Because you are hiding it. Because you think there is something here that needs hiding.

His damn mind answered for him and that was the crux of the issue. If there was nothing to be guilty about why hadn't he told Clara? Why hadn't introduced his new friend to his girlfriend? Because he didn't want to, because he didn't want to share her with anyone not even Clara. Those few hours every Monday and Thursday afternoon that he got to spend in Missy's company were a bright spot in his otherwise muted existence. He got to pretend he was somebody else, somebody brilliant not all used up and broken.

It was terribly selfish but the Doctor wasn't prepared to give that feeling up not even for Clara.

Glancing at his watch, today wearing his black crocodile strap Jaeger-LeCoultre that he stumbled across as an iterant youth in a Parisian antique shop; John subtly cursed under his breath his wool gathering had made him late and Missy was almost as finicky about time as he was. Rushing out of the house, slamming the door shut behind himself John began to hurry down the busy Chelsea street, swearing as his mobile began to wail impatiently.

Fumbling he wrenched it free of his pocket his heart sinking as he caught sight of the name on the display…Clara…

For a moment he considered allowing it to go to voicemail but at the last minute his guilt got the better of him and he hit accept.

"Doctor." Clara's breathy excited voice caused the guilt in his stomach to solidify and roll about unpleasantly. "Glad I caught you. My afternoon classes are all going to the pantomime and the Headmaster has told me I don't have to chaperone so I will be home for lunch. Did you want me to pick up something nice…"

"Actually Clara I'm not at home…" The Doctor swallowed down his guilt, hiding behind the blunt truth. Technically he wasn't at home.

"Oh well I could meet you wherever you are, we could go out for lunch…if you like…maybe get some Christmas shopping done?"

The actual optimism in her voice made John feel even more of a bastard than usual. "I already have plans for lunch." He added catching the sigh that she couldn't quite stifle. "It's research for…"

"The book yeah." Clara finished for him in quiet resignation.

"I shouldn't be all afternoon." He offered his guilt prompting him to offer something, even if he wasn't prepared to sacrifice his afternoon with Missy, certainly not for the onerous chore of Christmas shopping. "Perhaps we can go out for dinner? Get dressed up go somewhere nice?"

"Sure that sounds nice." Clara replied politely yet there was something off about her voice, something the Doctor couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Well I'd better go Clara I'll see you later, I'll be home by five at the latest." He added his fingers fumbled for the end call button as her soft voice echoed her farewell before being cut off.

Catching sight of a Taxi for hire trundling down the road John flagged it down and heaved a sigh of relief as he sank into the back seat and gave out the now familiar address for the little Scottish bakery. Already his mind was whirling about what excursion Missy would have planned for them today. Knowing her it really could be anything and already he could feel the building excitement sweep away any lingering sensation of guilt for misleading Clara.

He was so preoccupied by his thoughts that he didn't pay the slightest attention to the unusual sight of a rather run down Volvo parked among the smart Mercedes and Bentleys that were more typical along his street, nor one familiar face as it sat huddled down in the front passenger seat, hugging a brown satchel closely to her chest as she tried to stifle tears.

"Do you want me to follow him?" A kind voice offered, not really surprised when the not crying girl shook her head and fumbled for the door handle.

"No thanks Danny I think I will handle this my way."

-/-

John Smith was driving her crazy…or more to the point crazier because Missy Saxon could never be called a picture of mental health despite her chosen profession.

Rolling over in her five hundred thread count sheets Missy glanced at her bedside clock. It was almost time for her to get up.

After her only Monday morning client had cancelled late on Friday afternoon Missy had taken advantage of the opportunity to lay in and asked Mary to keep the day free. Officially she was spending the time catching up on the latest journals, in reality she was spending time thinking about John Smith and fantasising just how good those long fingered hands of his would feel in place of her own as she took the opportunity to enjoy some quality girl time.

Her body still tingled pleasantly from the after effects of her orgasm, all the little nerve endings of her body were wonderfully alive and still sensitive to the touch and the knowledge that she would be meeting the object of her day dreaming in person in little over an hour made the experience all the more deliciously naughty. Was he picturing her yet? In those quiet moments in the shower or perhaps even when he was lying in bed beside the pretty little Clara?

If he wasn't Missy was certain he would be soon.

John Smith didn't strike her as a man who was overtly sexual, he was definitely a man who thought with his real brain and not his lower instincts, as such her seduction of him had to be cerebral first. Yet still waters ran deep and she knew she just had to find his tipping point, that thing that changed his vision of her from his mental match to his ideal bed partner as well. She already knew he was an experience junky, but the man it seemed had been starved of culture, a depression fuelled self-imposed isolation that he was only just beginning to claw his way out of.

He clearly felt trapped and frustrated by his life, or what his life had become, because from titbits of things that John dropped into conversation Missy had pulled together the picture of a former jet setter in her mind. The man had been everywhere it seemed, had hiked in the Himalayas, before it was fashionable and there were package tours you could book. Had visited Russia when it had still been the USSR and an academic visa's had been difficult to get hold of. Then for some reason he was very careful to avoid mentioning, his entire world had contracted to the four wall of his study, and for almost a year he had hidden inside its protective cocoon. Yet now he was starting to break free and Missy delighted in being the one to help him do so.

John was certainly unlike any man she had ever met. He liked the oddest little luxuries, he never seemed to wear the same watch twice and that amused Missy to no end. She couldn't help but imagine some little room in his house simply full of boxes of the things, all classics, just like their owner. His clothes varied little, the same colours, a change of shirt perhaps sometimes white sometimes black but always of the highest quality, Saville row tailoring probably since his frame was hardly typical but Missy found his distinctiveness attractive. Besides she could hardly complain at his lack of variety, her entire wardrobe was filled with designer pieces mainly in black with the occasional splash of white or a daring purple if she was feeling particularly adventurous that day.

Speaking of clothing she had better get moving if she was going to meet John on time, their affinity for punctuality was something else that they shared and Missy calculated how long it would take to shower and dress…of course she could save a little time by not showering…the thought of meeting John with the slight musk of his inspired orgasm lingering on her skin was too tempting to pass up. So after brushing and flossing her teeth Missy moved onto the important topic of clothes.

A high-waisted pencil skirt was an easy choice it fit her perfectly and emphasised the dip of her waist and flare of her hips; it didn't do bad things for her backside either. This was quickly joined by a reasonably comfortable pair of charcoal grey suede knee high boots and a lastly a white silk blouse that was just heavenly to the touch, plenty of fabric in the sleeve all brought together at the wrist in little buttoned cuffs that looked so very old Hollywood glamour. Pair those with simple gold teardrop earrings, her hair loosely snagged up to emphasis her long neck, tendrils hanging free to frame her face.

The poor man really didn't stand a chance Missy mused as she sauntered over to her vanity and selected her underwear.

John probably wouldn't be seeing these but it really was the thought that counted Missy decided as she selected black stockings and black lace briefs before pausing. She hated not matching her set and yet there was no way she could wear a black bra with that blouse and yet she was loathed to select another top when she had already made up her mind. Of course she could just go without…

It was a positively wicked thought spending the afternoon with John Smith with only silk against her nipples…

Shaking herself out of that particular fantasy one glance at her clock had Missy moving, if she didn't meet John on time then there was a distinct chance they would be late for their afternoon's excursion. It was something they were both bound to enjoy a public lecture on The Improbability Principle by a renowned professor at Imperial and with John's multiple PHD's in Mathematics and Astrophysics Missy was certain he would relish the opportunity to poke holes at length in the arguments over a late lunch. It was a safe choice even if the devil in her had toyed with taking him to the lecture on Plato's Diotima's on the philosophy of desire instead.

Another day perhaps let's just see how today's date went and she would take it from there; with any luck John wouldn't be needing Plato's help on the subject.

-/-

She was waiting for him outside when the taxi pulled up and John had to stifle down the urge to take his irritation at being held up out on his cab driver. It really wasn't his fault that the damn council had chosen two weeks before Christmas to start tackling the pot holes, that combined the rain and the influx of Christmas shoppers into the capital. It was enough to make John cranky and late, and being late only made him grumpier.

Even so he was momentarily surprised out of his foul mood when Missy knocked on the cab door and flashed her bright smile at the cab driver to unlock it, and John had to shuffle backwards in surprise before he got a lap full. Even then he didn't manage to move properly to the other side of the cab before this whirlwind of a woman in high heeled boots was dropping down onto the seat beside him, pinning him in place by the tail of his coat.

"Sorry love no time to waste today!" Missy breezily announced, surprising John with a chaste peck on the cheek before turning her attention to the Cab driver who was watching her with a little too much interest for John's taste as she settled down and crossed her legs.

Seated close enough that their arms brushed against each other John felt his gaze drawn to the exposed expanse of Missy's white neck as she leant over him to address the driver. By contrast to him his companion had eschewed the necessity for a scarf despite the chilly weather and John found his gaze automatically following the sleek lines of her long neck, down to the little dip above her clavicle before he suddenly remembered himself.

"Can you take us to Bishopsgate?" Missy called to the cab driver waiting for his acknowledgement before turning her attention back to John who seemed to be frowning for some reason.

"Here I got you a fix just in case you were hungry but we'll have to eat afterwards." Missy whispered conspiratorially as she passed over one of the bakery's little goody bags filled with something warm and sweet.

"Where are we going?" John asked curiously as he opened his little care package and eyed the still warm spiced buns with interest.

"It's a surprise."

"I don't like surprises." John pouted even as he liberated one of the cakes and feasted on it eagerly.

"You'll like this one." Missy replied confidently, smirking as John scowled lightly, yet his intimidating air was undermined somewhat by the liberally dusting of sugar over his lips and Missy had to strongly resist the urge to lean forward and lick them clean.

"Don't I even get a clue?" John wheedled slightly, glancing up from his sticky treat to find Missy a little closer than expected, her blue eyes half-lidded and a soft almost wistful expression on her face.

"That depends."

"On what?"

"On what you will offer me in exchange." Missy batted back teasingly, unable to stop her laughter as John sheepishly offered her the last cake in the bag with an obviously reluctant air.

"No deal I'm not interested in your buns John." She added impishly delighting at the sudden flush that burned his cheeks.

He was just too precious for words.

Swallowing nervously John tried to tell those damn butterflies in his stomach to stop their flapping, he couldn't think straight, the sugar was doing funny things to him and Missy was being her usual cryptic self; those too blue eyes of hers boring into him seemingly stripping him down to his soul. Yet he didn't want her to stop. Right now he wasn't sure what he wanted but it wasn't for her to stop.

"I'm not sure I have anything else worth exchanging?" John replied his voice sounding a little strained even to his own ears.

Not that Missy seemed to mind, if anything her expression grew even more indulgent, a genuine smile pulling at her lips that she had left bare of lipstick today and it suited her…they looked softer like this…and John couldn't help but wonder if they really felt as soft as they looked.

"Silly boy." Missy chided him, her growing feelings for him colouring her voice in rich honey tones as she took a definite risk and reached up to lay a hand on his cheek.

His skin was so warm under her fingertips and the slight roughness of his stubble against her palm sent a frisson of electricity shooting through her body. Lighting up the sexual pathway of cerebral cortex to nipples to groin which caused the breath to catch in her throat and Missy could feel her earlier hunger return with a vengeance. God she wanted him, right here in this damn Taxi, onlookers be damned.

For what seemed like forever the moment hung between them. John was balancing…teetering on the edge as some mad clawing thing burst free from his stomach and was now clawing its way up his chest setting nerve endings on fire as it went…his cheek was burning under her fingertips and molten lava pooled in his belly as he felt himself pulled closer, unable to resist the pull of her, like gravity…

"Whereabouts in Bishopsgate did you want?"

And just like that the moment was broken and Missy felt her heart plummet, unable to quell a whimper of disappointment as John pulled back.

The Doctor recoiled as far as his trapped coat would allow him, his humiliation only compounding as certain parts of him were slow to catch up and he tugged roughly at his overcoat, pulling it firmly over his lap.

"Here would be fine!" He barked out to the taxi driver.

"But…"

"Just pull over." The Doctor demanded fumbling in his pocket for his wallet and blindly retrieving several notes before pushing them in the cabbies direction. "Keep the change."

"John…don't…please don't…" Missy's voice was usually small and vulnerable and John didn't dare look at her.

"Governor there is close to sixty quid here." The cab driver exclaimed in surprise as he pulled up and looked at his windfall.

"Then please take the lady anywhere she wants to go." John insisted fumbling for the car door, relieved when the driver unlocked it and he was able to flee this impossible situation.

He had thought they were friends, only now he wasn't sure if friendship was what he really wanted from her. His entire body was flushed with conflicting chemical reactions. His skin still seemed to burn where she had touched him, or was that merely the flush of humiliation at being so betrayed by his own physical reaction to her. He was acting like a fourteen year old and at his advanced years it was mortifying to be stripped of all control.

He needed to calm down; he needed to time and space to think about this rationally.

He really hadn't started meeting Missy in order to start something, his love life was already complicated enough with his not there but not over relationship with Clara; but that was familiar, that was safe and he did love her he just wasn't sure if he was still in love with her. Missy Saxon was the opposite of safe.

Yet clearly he had reckoned without Missy's tenacity as no sooner had he stepped out onto the wet London pavement of some random street she was following him out into the rain.

"John where are you going it's bloody pissing it down!" Missy exclaimed as she rushed on her heels, trying to avoid ruining the suede in the puddles and failing spectacularly as dirty rainwater splashed up and dyed the once charcoal finish a dirty muddy colour.

"Then go back to the cab…"

"You're being an idiot." Missy exclaimed finally catching up with her mark and digging her nails into his thick overcoat, forcing him to stop as she pushed herself into his path. "What exactly are you running away from?"

"You!" The answer broke free before John could stop it and the vehemence of it surprised them both, and John felt the familiar churning of guilt as Missy flinched as if he had slapped her. "I'm sorry I shou…"

"Well at least you are finally being honest!" Missy's equally biting retort stung just as sharply and the Doctor would have taken a step back had it not been for her pincer like grip on his arm. "So what is it about me that frightens you so much John Smith?"

"I'm not frightened."

"Then why are you shaking?" Missy pressed onward relentlessly because she had no choice, if he left now she knew she would lose him for good.

Looking down at his own hands John was amazed to find she was right. He was trembling, yet he wasn't sure if it was from fear or adrenaline or… "I…."

"I am not going to hurt you John." Missy whispered softly, her accent suddenly so strong as she reached up and took hold of the ends of his cashmere scarf.

"The last thing I want to do is hurt you." She added this time relentless in her pursuit, ignoring the frozen expression on his face as she pulled him down by the ends of his scarf and pushed herself up on to her tiptoes.

At the first brush of her lips against his Missy could feel John's reluctance; he held himself rigid and allowed her kiss but did not immediately return it. Then she slid one hand up over his shoulder and into the rain soaked soft grey scruff at the back of his neck, raking her fingernails gently over the sensitive skin feeling John shudder at her touch. It was taking every fibre of restraint she had to remain gentle and undemanding when all she really wanted right now was to force him up against the nearest wall and shove her hand down his trousers. Biting down gently on his bottom lip before suckling it between her own, Missy swallowed John's strangled groan and coaxed him into kissing her back.

It was chaste, hesitant at first, almost clumsy and John could feel his cheeks burning. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, let alone somebody completely new, someone who made him tremble just by looking at him. Yet Missy's little whimper as his tongue inexpertly brushed against her lips was enough encouragement to not simply give up. Accepting the invitation of her open mouth he slipped his tongue inside, groaning as Missy immediately countered his invasion, her dexterous little tongue trailing fire with every little flick before she sucked down on his and John felt the last of his reserve crumble.

Hands that had hung hesitant and unsure at his side now grabbed for any handhold they could find…the now dripping wet strands of her ruined updo as he tilted her head to a better angle, the curve of her arse as he bodily dragged her against him. Even through their thick winter overcoats John could feel the press of her breasts and the sudden heat of their bodies combined and it wasn't enough…he wanted more…he wanted her…

It had been so long since he had felt the heady rush of sexual lust that John could only express his need through guttural grunts, he was already practically hard against her stomach and the way Missy was almost grinding her body against his and making those gorgeous little whimpers wasn't helping things.

"Oye Oye Granddad get a room!" The yobbish yell and accompanying laughter from a passing van was a harsh reminder of exactly where they were and John could feel the blush rising up like a tidal wave from the bottom of his feet till it stained its cheeks red.

"I'm sorry…I don't know what came over me…" John began as he could only imagine Missy's mortification would be equal to his own.

Unable to supress her beaming smile Missy refused to allow a bunch of illiterate yobs to ruin this moment, instead she leant up and pressed a kiss to John's lips, stopping his excuses in their tracks.

"Shush love they are just jealous." Missy insisted her fingers trailing languidly down the front of John's overcoat causing him to gasp and groan as her fingers drifted below his waistline. "And oh my but isn't there plenty to be jealous about?"

He didn't think it was possible to be any more embarrassed yet Missy's frank admiration caused John to squirm in a combination of gut wrenching cringe-worthiness and heady delight. Reluctantly catching Missy's wrist John could feel himself shaking, there was nothing more that he wanted right now than to feel her hand on him…well maybe there was one or two other things but John didn't dare allow himself to imagine that otherwise he would never regain control of his wayward body. "We can't…I can't."

Pouting like a child denied a treat Missy quickly slipped her hand into his, threading their slippery fingers together before giving him an impetuous tug as she began to stride off, pulling him behind her like a confused little duckling.

"Missy…what…where?" John stumbled over his words and his feet and yet right now he would have willingly followed her anywhere.

Glancing back over her shoulder Missy could only smirk, her eyes raking hungrily over him leaving John in no doubt that his desires were reciprocated as she shot him a cheeky wink. "Just following some good advice love."

-/-


	5. Chapter 5

-/-

He was beginning to have second thoughts about this.

Dr John Smith wasn't sure if it was the knowing smile that the cabbie had shot him as they had pulled up outside the address that Missy had supplied somewhere in Islington that started it. John hadn't really been listening at the time too busy trying to rein in his own conflicted reaction to Missy's possessive hand on his thigh. Normally he would have shied away from any sort of touching let alone something so blatantly intimate, yet he was torn, her touch both attracted and unsettled him in equal measure.

Or perhaps it was his own uncertainty, his own lack of confidence that he would mess this up that was making him doubt he was doing the right thing? It had been forever since he had been in this situation and although John knew what and how he wasn't sure he had the answer about if he still could…

Could he really please a woman like Missy Saxon?

What if he was terrible? …What if she laughed?

Swallowing down the blockage that seemed to close down his throat John fell back a little, hanging back in the rain as Missy fumbled in her purse for a door key.

"Missy…I…I'm not…" John's voice broke a little and he didn't dare continue for fear of really embarrassing himself, shoving his hands in his pockets and glaring down at the ground John was startled by the brushing sensation of fingertips against his chin.

"Just come in before you drown or freeze John Smith." Missy Saxon whispered gently stepping back and disappearing through the open door leaving the decision about whether to follow or not completely down to him.

She could only push him so far, John Smith needing a firm hand most of the time otherwise the damn man would spend forever before he came to realise the obvious; yet when it came down to making a decision he had to be the one to make it…he had to choose to step through that door and follow her. Shrugging off her coat and hanging it up Missy couldn't contain her sigh of relief as she heard the door behind her shut and the small dark hallway fill with the sound of John's laboured breathing.

Shivering as she felt his breath against her neck, whilst John shrugged off his own wet coat and scarf and hung them up on the hooks beside her tailored black rain mac, Missy could feel her body reacting just to the warmth of him standing next to her. God knows what would happen when he finally touched her…those perfect hands of his on her naked flesh…her nipples hardened at the mere thought of that.

Turning around Missy ran her hand slowly down the long tailored sleeve of John's jacket surprised to feel him shiver under her simple touch. Slipping her hand down and up inside the sleeve Missy raked her fingernails over the sensitive skin of his wrist, unfastening the cufflink she slipped her fingers underneath the tailored shirt, rubbing her thumb in rhythmic circles over the bones of his wrist.

"Missy…" John managed to groan out her name. After their earlier exchange even these simple and innocent little touches were undoing the last vestiges of his restraint, he was already so hard it hurt, and he was certain the moment she touched him down there he would be unable to control himself and that would just be humiliating.

Reaching up to loosen his tie Missy could see the way John was holding himself so tense it looked painful, it was almost impossible to determine from his pained expression if he was actually enjoying this…well save for the rather sizable bulge that was ruining the beautiful tailored line of his suit trousers. The unfastened tie fell to the floor and Missy moved on to the little buttons of his waistcoat, unable to resist the urge to feel his skin under her fingertips she slipped her hands underneath and tugged his shirt tails out of the waist band of his trousers before resting her palms against the small of his back.

The heat from her little hands sent flickers of flame shooting up and down his spine and John couldn't contain the half strangled moan, digging his fingernails into the palms of hands.

"You are allowed to touch me John." Missy teased him lightly, leaning back and resting her back against the hallway wall as she stared up in mischievous delight, relishing the conflicted expressions of pleasure and agony on his face.

"I can't…I don't…" John grunted forcing his eyes open and trying to convey his desperation and the words he couldn't bring himself to say aloud. "Please…"

The weight of need and conflicted desires in his blue grey gaze staggered her and Missy felt something in her melt a little, her desire to torture and torment him abated as a form of tenderness took its place. The poor boy really was starved. Leaning up Missy barely brushed her lips against John's tightly clenched mouth, savouring the taste of him before she gently reversed their positions and pressed a confused John against the wall.

"Missy?" John could only splutter in confusion as Missy pulled away from him, those little spots of heat suddenly cooling where once her hands had warmed his flesh. Yet even shivering slightly in the cool air John numbly complied as Missy slipped his jacket from his shoulders and discarded the hideously expensive tailored jacket carelessly on the tiled floor.

Smiling sweetly before her lips quirked into something a little wicked Missy tutted loudly as she caught sight of the abuse John had inflicted on those gorgeous hands of his. Lifting his hands she pressed kisses over the fingernail indentations he had left in the poor skin of his palms before guiding his hands up to close around the two hanging ends of his cashmere scarf. Closing his fingers around that instead Missy's smile only grew as she trailed her fingertips down the line of buttons of his shirt and half unfastened waistcoat before they dropped to his belt and John gave a reflexive whimper. Pulling the end of his belt free from the loops of his trousers Missy caught John's gaze, watching and waiting for the moment he realised just what she was about to do as Missy slowly sank down…

Watching as Missy sank to her knees it took far too long for the neurons in his brain to connect but when they did John could only stare in mute wonder as Missy licked her lips, her smile wide and victorious as her fingers unfastened his fly.

Oh this had definitely been worth waiting for; Missy felt her smile grow in proportion to what she had found in John Smith's trousers…though with those hands she had hoped...

Reaching up she dragged the edge of her nail along the full length of him, her gaze locked on John's face as he seemed almost close to tears, his face contorted in need and want and frustration. When she repeated the path her finger had taken with the tip of her tongue John seemed to break.

Whimpering as he felt her intimate touch John could barely resist the urge to grab Missy roughly by the hair and force his acing flesh into the warm wetness of her mouth. Instead he tightened his grip on the scarf and leant back against the welcome support of the wall as he angled his hips forward. He no longer cared if he was appearing desperate; John just honestly didn't know how much of this teasing he could take.

"Please…Please…"

"Say my name."

"Missy please." John repeated, before crying out in pain as Missy suddenly flicked her fingers sharply against his painfully engorged cock, the sensation flashing up his sensitised flesh literally bringing tears to his eyes as they flew open.

"Say MY Name." Missy repeated slowly meeting John Smith's confused gaze as she bent down and pressed a consoling kiss to his swollen tip.

Oh…Oh…He was an idiot…a blissfully lucky idiot.

"Marsaili." He rolled her name around in his mouth savouring the feel of it on his tongue; happily grunting it out again, his voice a low growl of want. "Marsaili please."

Satisfied Missy Saxon smiled and a few seconds later, so, finally did John Smith.

-/-

He had forgotten…how the hell had he forgotten just how good this could feel?

One moment his entire body was like molten fire, the next his limbs felt so heavy, almost boneless. It was like someone had reached inside him and dragged out every complicated thought and replaced it with this sense of mindless bliss, his brain was like sludge and he didn't care. John Smith had degenerated into a creature of pure sensation; he was Missy Saxon's willing plaything.

Smiling indulgently Missy wiped the corner of her mouth before she pulled up John's trousers and refastened them. Reaching up she tugged his hands down, wrapping them around her waist before sliding her hands into his back pockets. Leant casually against his long warm frame Missy relished the relaxed almost serene expression on his face. Kissing him briefly on the lips Missy was surprised to feel John's fingers reaching up to cup her face, his lips searching for hers as he pulled her back and deepened the kiss.

He could taste himself in her mouth, as his tongue stroked hers gently. He savoured the kiss, indulged in it before the inevitable embarrassment and awkwardness would descend and ruin everything. Finally though he had to pull away the press of her body and her hungry mouth was just too much. Staring down into Missy's questioning face John swallowed uncomfortably, his mind was finally clearing now that his lust had been sated and the reality of just what he had done and with who descended.

"Mi…"

"Shush." The chastisement was gently spoken but there was no missing the command in Missy's tone as was the finger she laid across his lips.

She could hear and see John Smith pulling away from her physically and emotionally, clearly he was not a man used to such afternoon interludes. Missy suspected he was both embarrassed by his own weakness and uncertain about how he should act now. He needed her to take charge.

"Upstairs…the sitting room, go and pour us both a whiskey. It's in a decanter on the side table, glasses in the cupboard underneath. I'll get us both some towels."

Nodding mutely John was relieved to be given a task, something simple; something that put some distance between them and allowed him the opportunity to regain control of his thoughts and regroup.

Watching John take the stairs quickly, Missy took a moment to regain her own equilibrium. That man could make her heart race just by kissing her like that, slow, deep, sensual…

John Smith had hidden depths that just needed exploring and Missy was determined that somehow this afternoon she would unwind him enough to get him to allow her to take at least a peek. At least things wouldn't now be over before they started, she had bought herself time to seduce him properly. Not some lust fuelled grope in the street or a quickie in the dark of a hallway that could be dismissed as a moment of madness, an encounter that was over before you knew it, but soft and slow in the rumpled sheets of her bedroom as the light of day slowly faded.

Composed and determined Missy moved to follow him, yet before she could the discarded jacket on the floor began to warble a muffled noise…a mobile…John's mobile…

Panicking for some reason Missy bundled his jacket together, muting the irritating little tune to a barely discernible noise. Holding her breath she watched the stairs waiting in dread for the moment John reappeared. Yet clearly he hadn't heard his phone go off and Missy held her breath until the damn thing stopped ringing. Sighing in relief when it finally stopped she slipped her hand into the pocket and retrieved the smartphone.

One missed call...Clara…One new message…Clara… Of course it had to be, she was persistent for an infant but Missy had learnt the rules of this game whilst little Miss Clara was still rolling around in her pampers. She was not going to ruin this afternoon.

Missy didn't even hesitate before switching the phone onto silent and slipping it back into the pocket of John's jacket then hanging the jacket on the hook next to his overcoat. Now little Miss Clara could ring the damn thing as many times as she liked, leave as many messages as she wanted but she wasn't going to derail Missy's plans for the afternoon and if things went her way the night as well.

Smoothing down her pencil skirt Missy then ran her hands over her silky shirt, strategically unfastening the first blouse button. Without the constraint of a bra her breasts moved freely when she walked up the stairs and the soft fabric was doing wonderful things to her already aroused nipples. Making a detour to the bathroom off of the small upstairs landing Missy retrieved two towels, one glance in the mirror had her unpinning the wet tendrils of hair from her half collapsed updo and wiping the slight smudge of mascara from under her eyes…she wanted to look dishevelled and sexy not like a drowned racoon.

Squeezing the excess water from her hair Missy began to towel dry it before picking up the spare towel for John and heading into the large open plan lounge kitchen that dominated this first floor. John was standing with his back to her, glass of whiskey in hand and he was looking at the books...she really should have guessed but then again the book cases in people's houses was normally what first drew her attention.

"Find anything interesting?"

Missy's sudden question startled him and for a moment John almost felt guilty like he had been caught prying through something personal. Fighting the instinct to blush John could only keep his attention on her bookshelves, of which there were many. He had been momentarily surprised on entering this room. He had expected it to be all sleek, modern and minimalist for some reason. Yet it was the complete opposite all dark panelled wood and old leather…and books…books by the hundreds…maybe even the thousand.

Books were stacked in piles waiting to be shelved, there were even stacks cluttering up the tiny little kitchenette half tucked away behind a lovely painted Chinese screen in the far corner. It was more like a gentleman's library from the turn of the century than the sitting room of an attractive successful woman and John almost felt jealous of Missy having the snug little hideaway to call her own. His own ramshackle collection was contained to his study for fear if allowed out it would similarly takeover the rest of the house.

"Too many things." John answered gruffly forcing himself to turn around and face the woman who only a few minutes before he had been so intimately acquainted with and yet a glance around her inner sanctum revealed truly how little he really knew Missy Saxon. However what really surprised him was that he wanted to…more than anything he wanted to…his curiosity was piqued and John knew he wouldn't be satisfied until he had discovered just who Missy Saxon was.

There was very little here that told him anything about her and John had looked, other than the books which spoke of her avid reading habit, which he already knew about. There were no personal photographs, hardly any knickknacks, not even a plant. Yet there was an excellent vintage of whiskey John noted, savouring the tang of the single malt on his tongue as his gaze similarly assessed Missy.

She was…striking…beautiful in an unconventional way…not pretty. Slender but not delicate…no there was something iron like about Missy Saxon, strong and yet she also struck him as almost brittle…the damage was there but it was well hidden. John should know he was a master of masks; he had worn them all his life in one way or another, always fitting in, always adapting to the new and running from the old.

"You're staring John."

"I know." He answered bluntly, enjoying the genuine pleased smile that fluttered about her lips. "I don't know if anyone has told you but you're quite nice to look at." He added surprising himself with his boldness, not sure where he found the balls to be quite so direct.

"They might have but I think now all I'll remember is that you did." Missy replied throatily, unable to hide the burn in her cheeks yet she held his gaze even as her breath quickened and her mouth suddenly felt dry as sandpaper. "Now where the hell is my whiskey?"

Snorting at her demand John returned to the little side table, topping up his own drink before retrieving the glass he had poured for her. "For Madam." He teased holding out the glass, forcing Missy to come to him and he watched her slink across the room.

It was another excellent skirt but John's gaze was lingering a little higher, that blouse looked like poured silk and John couldn't tear his eyes away from the hypnotic sway of her breasts.

"See something in particular you like?" Missy teased as she stopped within arm's reach, liberating her drink from John's hand.

Flushing like a mere slip of a boy John could only feign ignorance, dropping his gaze to his glass as he took a far too long pull from it, enjoying the way the whiskey burnt his throat and distracted him momentarily.

"Don't go shy on me John." Missy added bringing her drink up to her lips as she studied John Smith over the rim of the glass. The man was such a conundrum, at one moment so damn eloquent he took her breath away and yet the next he was like a shy bumbling boy on his first promise. "I thought I was nice to look at?"

"You are." John answered gruffly forcing his gaze up to meet hers, his eyes loitering on the pale elegant slope of her neck for a moment, on the rise and dip of her collarbone, before moving to her face.

"But?"

"I just…I don't feel I know you Marsaili, not well enough to…" John paused, his voice breaking slightly, "to go to bed with you…even though I want to." He clarified when her face suddenly shuttered and those too blue eyes of hers suddenly darted away.

"I see." Missy couldn't help the clipped tone to her voice, nor could she completely hide the disappointment that coloured her face.

"Don't be angry…"

"I'm not angry…"

"You sound angry." John countered reaching out and catching her arm in an uncharacteristic gesture, plucking the glass from her hand and setting down next to his own. Normally John shied from touching others and yet he couldn't simply let her walk away from him, not like this, not all hard lines and hidden hurt. He didn't want to hurt her that was the point of this, what was better a little hurt now or risk a larger hurt later.

He had led her on after all; he knew what this must look like especially after Missy had already been so understanding of his needs. Even now the memory of her talented mouth on him made him shiver and John knew it would haunt his dreams for many nights to come.

"I do want you…you're probably the most fascinating woman I have ever met." John whispered softly, releasing his confession into the wet strands of her hair as he gave into the urge and nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck.

"So what exactly is the problem…you want me and I want you." Missy insisted, gasping audibly as John's nuzzling turned into kisses and then suckling over her sensitive pulse point.

Pulling away grudgingly John savoured the taste of her skin and the lingering tang of whiskey. Pressing a brief kiss to her temple he slid an arm loosely around her waist.

"Because I don't know if it is the real you I want or just the you I have constructed in my head." John replied honestly. "I have created my Marsaili from you but I don't know right now where she stops and you begin and it wouldn't be fair to you to start something when…when it might not even be real outside of my head."

"You are a complete bastard you know that?" Missy choked out bitterly unable to believe what she was hearing. "You honestly expect me to buy that bullshit? You are not doing anything of this to protect me; if you were then you might have had the decency to stop me downstairs. Funny how it is only now you are having second thoughts and not earlier whilst I was getting you off."

"Marsaili."

"Don't call me that you don't have the right." Missy snapped back, finally freeing herself from the constraint of John's loose embrace.

"But that is exactly the point!" John retorted his blue grey eyes tracking her progress across the room as she downed one whiskey and then poured herself another far larger measure. "I don't have the right I have enjoyed every moment we have spent together but I still feel like I don't know you…I've seen you play Missy Saxon but I want to get to know the real you."

"No you don't, believe me you don't." Missy hissed dangerously, blue eyes flashing. "And I find this the height of irony coming from a man who hides behind as many masks as you do John Smith."

"Exactly so I know what I am talking about." John spat back, his control becoming dangerously frayed. "You told me you wouldn't hurt me, asked me to trust you, well sooner or later you are going to trust me back. I don't go to bed with strangers…"

"No you just let them blow you." Missy retorted snarkily, surprised when a moment later she was being pushed back against the nearest bookcase, her wrists captured and pressed over her head.

Squirming in his iron grip Missy couldn't contain just how much this side to John Smith was turning her on. How could one man have so many facets? One moment so shy, submissive and uncertain the next dominant and demanding.

Clenching his teeth as he fought to retain control on his explosive temper John could only glare down into Missy's face, the sudden shift from outrage to arousal was hardly subtle and he filed that knowledge away for another day.

"What is it that has you really pissed Missy? That I want you to let me in or that you're just frustrated I won't fuck you until you do?"

"Drop dead!" Missy growled tugging at her restrained wrists so she could give in to one of two impulses, either to claw his eyes out or drag that god damn mouth down to her own and stick her tongue down his throat.

"Or perhaps you are just frustrated period?" John hissed reading the lust in her eyes before his eyes dropped to her heaving breasts.

It would only be fair after all…and he still wasn't going to bed with her…he wasn't…now he only had to sound more sure of that fact inside his own head.

Leaning down he nuzzled his face into the soft swell of her breast, relishing the little whimper of need and gasp of surprise that seemed to get stuck in Missy's throat. Her blouse was lovely just as he suspected, so silky and delicate, and doing absolutely nothing to hide just how much she was enjoying his attentions. Unable to resist a moment longer John covered one of the rigid little peaks with his mouth, sucking hard and rubbing his tongue over it John relished Missy's loud moan, grazing his teeth and biting down slightly to elicit another. Pulling away briefly John noted with amusement just how transparent her white blouse went when wet before transferring his attention to her other neglected breast.

Heaven and hell was John Smith's mouth on her breast, so close to perfection and yet not quite close enough…the damn fabric of her blouse took care of that. God dammit why couldn't the damn man just rip it open? Yet Missy had her suspicions that it was deliberate, that John was tormenting her intentionally. Already she had the urge to grind herself against his leg, yet the tight restriction of her pencil skirt put paid to that and Missy could only whimper her frustration.

"Say please?" John's mocking voice drifted up from between her breasts.

Clenching her jaw Missy resolutely refused to beg, reading the amusement in John Smith's face at her stubborn refusal. No man made her plead that was her kink.

"I will have you stubborn woman. You will let me in."

"I already offered and you turned me down remember." Missy spat back relishing the way John's eyebrows seemed to scrunch together before he retaliated with a sharp nip to her breast before moving to the skin that her unfastened blouse exposed sucking that into his mouth.

"Don't you dare…" Missy grunted trying to wiggle and shake him loose but the man was like an limpet refusing to release until he chose to, and John Smith didn't chose to until he had left a damning mark on the smooth porcelain of her skin. He had marked her, branded her like some common little strumpet. "You dirty bastard!"

"If you don't watch your mouth the next one will go somewhere you can't hide it." John warned her, smarting from her choice of language, her verbal jousting hitting him in a known tender spot.

"You don't have the balls…" Missy began only to regret her outburst when John latched on to the sensitive skin just below her ear, sucking and biting he relished the way she tried to shake him off, each time returning unerring to the same spot feeling her pulse pound underneath the rasp of his tongue.

Finally John pulled away, taking a moment to admire his handiwork, the little red mark would bruise he had no doubt of that and it would a nagging visual reminder that would irritate Missy no end. She would have no choice but to wear her hair down until it faded and John looked forward to that, she had beautiful hair after all and it was a shame to keep it bundled up all the time.

"Now are we through playing silly games?" John huffed his gaze boring down into Missy's bright blue orbs.

"Just tell me something…anything that I don't know…something about you…" He added forcefully unable to keep his desperation completely from his voice, surprised when it was then that Missy seemed to look uncertain and the realisation came to him suddenly, like a bolt of lightning or inspiration. When he was resolute she matched him, blow for blow and wall for wall, but when he let a little of his own vulnerability surface so her shields slipped.

"I'll even go first." John offered surprising Missy by his generosity and she bit down on her bottom lip so as to hide the way it trembled.

"A man died and I blamed myself. I didn't pull the trigger but it was my fault, and I still blame myself." John confessed surprising himself with how much better he suddenly felt having finally admitted out loud what until now he had only repeated in the confines of his head. What he still thought no matter how many times he heard the platitudes of others reassuring him that there was nothing anyone could have done. "Yet I think I can find a way to live with it and I think that is what scares me most of all. What sort of man does that make me?"

Undone by John's blunt honesty Missy couldn't meet those blue grey eyes, already she could feel the moisture gathering behind her eyes. Yet it wasn't until she felt the press of John's lips on her cheek and then her forehead that she lost control of them and tears slipped unbidden down her cheeks.

"Shush it's just you and me." John whispered gently, releasing his grip on Missy's wrists to free his hands to cup her tear stained face; already she had given him more than he expected. Even without uttering a word she had confirmed what he suspected that somehow Missy Saxon had once been broken just as badly as he had and like him she had found a way claw herself out of the hole and move on but never really faced it. "There is nothing you can tell me that would make me turn away from you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep." Missy choked pushing away John's tender touch and forcing some distance between them, reaching for her abandoned glass of whiskey she finished the drink greedily, then whilst the false courage was still flowing through her she moved to the sideboard and opened a drawer, reaching in and pulling out the picture she couldn't bear to have on display and yet couldn't bring herself to part with. Handing it over wordlessly she quickly moved to refresh her glass.

Accepting the framed photograph John could only stare down in confusion. It was Missy much younger smiling and laughing, her arms around a handsome young man whose hands were around her and resting on…the swell of her stomach was unmistakable and yet there was no sign of a child in this house.

"What happened?" John asked softly unable to tear his eyes away from that young innocent face.

"Car accident. I was driving." Missy replied bluntly. "It was late and dark; I was heavily pregnant and tired… It's no excuse…" She trailed off. "Theo died on impact, I had to be cut out and by the time I got to the hospital it was too late to save the baby. They had to operate to stop the bleeding…everyone kept telling me how lucky I was to be alive but I didn't feel lucky." Missy added bitterly.

There were no words. John knew only too well how futile they seemed in such cases. How many times had he heard people tell him it wasn't his fault and yet he knew differently? He doubted anything he had to say would convince Missy she wasn't to blame, or that whatever culpability she had surely she had already suffered enough to account for it?

Reaching out and placing the photograph gently down on the bookcase before gathering his courage and moving to rest his hands on Missy's trembling shoulders. "Still not leaving." John whispered softly feeling the shudder that ran her body.

"You should." Missy whispered. "I am not a nice person John Smith."

"Neither am I." John confessed once more finding the beautiful slope of her neck and pressing his lips against her skin even as his hands dropped to cup her breasts. "I'm a self-absorbed narcissistic workaholic. I run roughshod over nice people, I use them and they let me."

Moaning as those wonderful hands cupped and stroked and pinched her flesh Missy leant back against John's tall frame sliding her hand back to rub it over the front of his trousers, already she could feel him stirring under her fingers. "It's a good job that I'm not a nice person then….although I would be more than willing to let you use me."

He knew then that he had lost: his resolve, any lingering shred of his morality and the battle against her, against this, against them.

It was like trying to hold back the sea a futile effort and suddenly John couldn't see the point of even trying. Besides he had gotten what he wanted hadn't he? He had wanted to see the real Marsaili, the woman in front of him not the character he had conjured in his head, and she had given him the glimpse he so craved. Only now he knew whatever he wrote was always going to pale into insignificance, he could never do her justice. Brilliant and flawed and so very alone…just like him…deep in his gut he just knew it.

Letting out a shuddering breath John lifted his mouth to the delicate curve of her earlobe, biting down on the soft little lobe before whispering hungrily. "I think it's about time we took this upstairs…Marsaili…"

Choking down her cry of relief Missy stopped her teasing, her hands moving to momentarily cover John's over her breasts, savouring this moment as their fingers threaded together. Then pushing their joined hands off of her body she turned and offered him a soft open smile before giving him a playful pull towards the stairs. Returning her smile with a shy one of his own John allowed her to lead him, catching up only to press a chaste kiss to her lips as they reached the foot of the stairs. Then hand in hand they took each step one at a time, knowing with each one that there was no going back now.

-/-


	6. Chapter 6

Work Text:

-/-

It was very late or very early depending on your point of view. Either way it still didn't change the fact that Dr John Smith couldn't sleep. That wasn't in itself unusual. John had struggled with insomnia for much of his life, his brain refusing to shut down on most occasions with ideas and plans running rampant through his thoughts until John considered knocking his head against the wall and himself into blessed unconsciousness. However this night…morning…whatever time it was it was the unpleasant sensations of guilt doubt and lust that were robbing him of precious sleep. The cause of which was lying no more than inches from him.

Missy Saxon…no Marsaili…his Marsaili…

John couldn't help the possessive pronoun. Somehow even though he didn't quite understand it she was his.

He had proven that twice over to a very enthusiastic recipient, whose response had temporarily robbed him of any other conscious thought. Even now he could still feel the low curl of desire in the pit of his stomach and despite his lingering concerns John could at least put to bed those around his own ability. He may be a wreck of a man in many ways but John was still able to rise to the occasion both in the bedroom and the shower.

Turning slowly on to his side John could make out to curve of Missy's cheek, the exposed slope of her neck and shoulder as it poked out from under the duvet. Even in the darkened room her porcelain skin seemed to glow and John couldn't resist the building urge to reach out and touch…

Just to prove to himself that she was real, that she wasn't some sort of mirage or hallucination, or worse some sort of lucid dream that he would inevitable wake from only to find himself laid out and drooling on the chaise in his study. For so long now touching and being touched had only left John feeling decidedly awkward, like he was a machine that had been wired the wrong way, perhaps it was the uncertainty of it or perhaps it was a flesh memory that was just too difficult to erase. He had certainly endured more than a few beatings during his captivity, his wise cracking tongue and short fuse had seen to that…so perhaps that was why he flinched whenever anyone touched him, that lingering fear that even a gentle touch might hide a blow.

So it was so completely bizarre in John's mind that he should have such an unbearable ache to reach out and touch Missy Saxon…

Dexterous fingers traced the line of her neck, brushing away loose strands of dark hair from her nape as they wandered lightly down to brush across the slight protrusion of her seventh vertebrae. The urge to follow that path with his lips was building but John held himself back with herculean strength. More sex wouldn't solve his problem it would merely allow him to delay having to confront it.

Clara…he had cheated on her.

Right now his impossibly patient and understanding girlfriend was probably at home worried sick about where he was, she had probably blown his phone up trying to call him and had contacted the police and hospitals just in case he had been involved in some sort of accident. He should be hanging his head in shame. This was not like him; he had never been a player, him the quiet academic during his youth who had spent most of his university years ensconced in the library not working his way through the female undergraduate population like some of his friends.

Even when he had begun to travel as he became older and more interesting, women were just something that he occasionally seemed to encounter; for some reason his hobo approach to life was attractive to some and there had been a string of idealistic younger lovers. Yet eventually they all moved on, they moved on to pastures new, to men who were more emotionally available and less consumed by their work. Men who wanted mortgages and marriage and babies; men who could say "I love you" out loud.

He wished them well…Sarah Jane and her investigative journalism, sweet Rose and his own protégée, even long suffering faithful Martha who had been the most loyal personal assistant even if he hadn't been able to return her affections; even the gung-ho Melody had left him in the end. All save Clara who had stood by him even when he gave her no reason to, even when there were times he wanted her to leave. She was beautiful and caring and strong his Clara.

Yet instead here he was in bed with another woman, a beautiful, fascinating, fragile woman….

In her own way Missy Saxon was as broken and damaged as he was she just hid it better and he had lied to her too. Regardless of the state of his relationship with Clara he was still in a relationship with her, they lived together, a fact that he had kept from Missy…although he wondered if she had her suspicions? She was smart, very smart, a match for him in many ways and Missy had always been so careful not to ask about Clara. They had met after all at that formal dinner, she knew there was a Clara but not once had she questioned him about the younger woman. That was suspicious in itself.

Plausible deniability.

While she didn't ask and he didn't tell she was able to pursue him without any moral ambiguity and John now realised that was what she had been doing. All this time he had been deluding himself that there was nothing truly wrong in meeting up with Missy because it was only friendship…they were just two people who connected innocently to share their thoughts and experiences. He really was such a naive fool, he had fallen for her ploy hook link and sinker and it was only now that he was well and truly in her net that John could look back over their time together and see the strategic game she had played.

He was gun shy she was non-threatening; he was bored she was impulsive and diverting, he was hibernating and reclusive she was challenging and protective. She had played him like master fiddler and he had let her, part of him was even flattered. It was almost bewildering to John that Missy wanted him enough to go to such trouble. The old him he could understand but the man he was now, this shell of the man he once was.

He was old and used up and so very desperate for a last chance.

Burrowing his face in the cascade of still damp dark hair that spilled over her pillow John breathed in the lingering scent of her perfume and the musk of dried sweat that appealed to the animalistic part of him. Already his palms itched to touch her, to reach out and cup those full breasts in his hands as he ground his growing erection against the curve of her arse. He enjoyed sex, he always had but he would never have described himself as a man who was governed by such desires. He had never bedded a woman just because he wanted to have sex, there had always been something more there and the sex was a nice addition.

He had never lay awake beside a sleeping a woman tormenting himself with the mere thought of having her.

Then again he had never been with a woman like Missy before, a woman who didn't wait for him to offer, a woman who shoved his hand in between her thighs, who issued throaty commands and demands, who whispered filthy suggestions in his ear of what she wanted to do to him and him to her. He had been screwing himself out of his mind and it had been….there really just wasn't the words to describe it even for a wordsmith and already John could feel the urge building again.

It was addictive. She was addictive and already John craved that complete and utter oblivion; the visceral sensations that blocked out his thoughts, his doubts, his insecurities, to just feel free.

Biting down on his lip John tried to regain control yet there was no convincing him, it was like he had reawakened a slumbering beast, one that had tasted blood and wouldn't be satisfied until it had consumed Missy whole. This was not like him, this animalistic lust that seemed to overrule all good sense.

His hand found her hip all of its own accord John was convinced, his thumb running over the curve of her hip bone, savouring the warmth and softness of her rounded curves as his body curled naturally around hers. Strained steel brushed yielding flesh and John couldn't resist rocking and rolling his hips, smothering his groan in Missy's thick dark hair as he rubbed his cock between the congenial cleft of her buttocks. Back and forth already he could feel the stickiness of precum sliding up and down his shaft as he left it smeared against her perfect arse.

His left hand once again took the initiative and slid up to cup and claw at her breast. Sleepily Missy murmured something unintelligible and John was left gasping and groaning as she arched, lifting her arse and pressing it back into his stomach. Now sliding between her thighs John pumped roughly, fingers dropping touching spreading as he dragged his sticky cock back and forth along her lips spreading the lingering wetness from their earlier coupling.

It would be so easier to just….

Fingers rubbed her clit causing Missy to cry out and John smiled against Missy's shoulder before sucking down on her sensitive skin, tongue and teeth… back and forth until the tip of him snagged on her opening, dipping in slightly before continuing on to rub over her clit. Pulling back again John lingered at her entrance nudging the tip of his cock into that snug little spot as his thumb continued to rub teasingly little circles over her clit.

He wasn't really going to…he was just savouring the feel of her but then she was wiggling, pressing herself down against him…

An uncontrolled buck and he was sinking into that incredible warmth, each buck and thrust pressing him deeper until she was there surrounding him entirely, hot pulsating and tight against his needy flesh. He hadn't thought it could get better than their earlier couplings but there was something so very primal about flesh on flesh…he could feel her…really feel her…could fill her…

Mine.

It was the one word that echoed through John's mind as he withdrew almost entirely before thrusting his cock back into her…just a few more and then he'd pull out and spill himself over the swell of her buttocks…any moment he would…he would…

Mine…Mine…Mine…

He wasn't sure if it was just in his head now or if he was grunting it out loud but Missy's throaty moans only served as added encouragement as did the way she was flexing her hips to counter his every thrust. One hand on her hip the other on her clit rubbing her furiously to orgasm.

"Come for me." The demand was rough and grunted against her ear and John punctuated it with another deep thrust that seemed to have Missy bucking and crawling out of her skin. Tight vicelike she contracted around him, the iron fist in the silk glove. John bucked, control and resolve lost and he cried out his release, sagging against Missy's heaving back as she milked him dry.

Now boneless and weak as kitten John could only sigh out his approval as Missy turned over, her fingers gently raked through his hair, the grey locks curling around her fingers as she moved his head to pillow against the swell of her breast. Greedily he soaked up her gentle affections, eyes falling closed as he listened to the slowing beat of her heart as he breathed in the scent of drying sweat and arousal.

"Naughty boy some of us have to go to work in the morning." Missy huffed yet there was no real objection in her tone, he had surprised her and she did love surprises…especially surprises of the sexual persuasion. Still waters ran deep and Dr John Smith was proving a delight of fathomless proportions.

Pressing one last kiss to his brow Missy watched as John's face slowly relaxed, the perpetual frown that creased his eyebrows disappearing as finally he seemed to drift off. She hadn't been ignorant of his difficulties, it was impossible to share a bed and not notice when your pillow partner was struggling to sleep. Yet Missy wasn't one for regular exercise and John had managed to wear her out enough that despite his tossing and turning she was able to fall asleep.

Now however she was wide awake and he was beginning to snore, a soft little rasp that was thankfully more amusing than irritating. However it was heavy head on her breast that was the real distraction. If it wasn't for the physical reminder, of that heavy weight and gentle snore Missy might have resorted to pinching herself to confirm that this was real, that she wasn't in fact dreaming still. Unsurprisingly John had featured quite heavily in her dreams lately yet in her dreams every time they came close to falling into bed together either she would wake up or he…he would leave.

She had been dreaming earlier before John had woken her up in the most delightful fashion. Yet in that dream it was John's absence that had shaken her. The details were hazy now but Missy could remember wandering from room to room ,her London apartment merging with her old house back in Ayr, searching for him always sure that he would be behind the next door only he wasn't. There were traces that he had been there, a discarded jacket, a typewriter with page half typed and yet no John.

Missy didn't need to be a psychologist to interpret that message. She had been plagued with similar dreams after Theodore's death only then she had to wake up to an empty bed and the knowledge that it wasn't just a bad dream but her reality. Now it was her own fear driving them.

After all she had planned her seduction of John so precisely up to this point, only yesterday's events had sped things up considerably. She had always suspected that she would have to be the one to initiate turning their friendship into a physical relationship but Missy had intended for him to be so completely smitten by that point that there was no chance of turning back. Yet things had gone decidedly off script after their first kiss, she didn't regret it, she couldn't regret it but it left her off balance and exposed in a way that she hadn't been in years.

She had let him in, had lowered the armour that she wore constantly giving him a glimpse at the scarred woman that lay beneath but he hadn't run…trust…her trust was such a hard thing to earn but she had wanted him so badly that when given an ultimatum she had relinquished control…her…

Missy could only wonder if John suspected just how momentous that was for her to give anybody any sort of power over her? Yet John had lured her in with his own act of disclosure, revealing his own closely held pain and shame, those blue grey eyes of his so raw and honest Missy hadn't been able to lie, not to him.

She had started this game, had pursued this man she wanted, had made herself the very precise instrument of his seduction but Missy hadn't realised just how deeply she had begun to fall for her own trap. She had set out to entrance and beguile him, to hook herself a lover not fall in love. Love real love meant pain and sacrifice and vulnerability and Missy wasn't certain she had it in her to go there again.

Yet what was the alternative? To cut him loose now? Her heart was already compromised, it already clenched painfully in her breast at the idea of losing him, of waking up to an empty bed. No she was already in too deep to be able to simply walk away but he still might….that was the nightmare that would plague her, the fear that would cause her breath to catch in her throat and heart to race. No she couldn't lose him now but where to go from here that Missy was suddenly unsure of.

The only thing she was certain of was the idea of him getting up and leaving in the morning filled her with an increasing sense of dread. What if he regretted it in the cold harsh light of day? What if he took a look at her with her fine crow's feet, and smudged makeup, mussed hair and her forty odd year old body, and regretted being so impetuous? She was no pretty Miss Clara, with her ever present glow and twenty something body.

The lingering uncertainty of John's relationship with that young lady was the crux of her concerns. He hadn't mentioned her once in all their time together and Missy had purposely not asked, yet the longer the topic was avoided the more certain Missy was that Clara was more than just the "friend" John claimed her to be.

Would Clara be waiting for John when he finally returned home? All righteous indignation and pretty tears, those large dark eyes of hers pleading with him not to break her heart. Guilt was such a powerful motivator and Missy was genuinely uncertain of her own place in John's heart and life right now. He wanted her that she was sure of, he enjoyed her both intellectually and physically but did he, could he love her? Maybe one day, right now he was probably more intrigued and fascinated by her and guilt would weigh those down, would taint them. He wouldn't be able to look at her or touch her without seeing those accusing brown eyes.

Missy couldn't...she wouldn't allow that to happen…

Once again the impulse to scratch out those expressive brown eyes rose like a tsunami, the rush of adrenaline at the thought of simply eradicating the problem and Missy could feel her nipples hardening in excitement before she forced aside the violent impulses and forced herself to count her breathing.

No…that was not going to be the answer this time… she wouldn't get away with it again…besides guilt didn't just go away just because the person involved was dead, John was liable to feel worse rather than better about their affair.

Her years of providing therapy had taught her the hard way, men didn't leave their relationships. They would cheat on their partners frequently but would stay in a relationship that made them unhappy rather than be the one to make the difficult decision to move on. No if there was ever to be any future in this then she needed Clara to leave him, to absolve him of being the one to make that final step, to free him from the remaining shackles of that relationship.

Yet that was far easier said than done without implicating herself in the process.

Still she was Missy Saxon she would think of something, something brilliant and in the meantime she just had to find a way to keep John too entertained to worry about his little girlfriend, entertained without falling into the role of his bit on the side. As much as it pained her to do this Missy knew she had to make herself less available that way. He wanted her that John had proved, but so far Missy had been the one doing the chasing. She had hooked him but having the fish take the bait was still a long way from having her catch all safe and secure. If she wanted him to stay hooked whilst she reeled him in then the bait had to stay irresistible and that meant being illusive, something he had to work for. When John took a step in the right direction she could reward him appropriately but no losing her head, no letting him realise just how tenuous her control on her libido and her heart were when close to him…no letting him use her however he damn well pleased…

Lying here staring up at the ceiling, John's sleeping head on her breast his snores gently filling the air, Missy could feel the sticky result of letting John have his way creating a damp spot on her expensive sheets. That was audacious she would give him that. She had insisted on condoms the first two times and John had happily complied, no mess no fuss. Even if the chances of her falling pregnant were next to negligible after her car accident and surgery Missy had always insisted on protection on the rare occasions she dallied between the sheets. Yet there was no denying the difference its absence had had on her current lover, he had gone from talented and considerate to ravenous and demanding, even now Missy couldn't help but shiver as she recalled the possessive way he had grunted against her ear as he fucked her…Mine.

Tightening her fingers in John's short grey curls Missy felt a similar sentiment fill her as she stared down at John's sleeping face…Mine...

Somehow she was going to make John Smith hers and only hers and heaven help anyone that got in her way.

-/-

He was alone.

That was the first thought that truly registered as John Smith blinked open his eyes in the surprisingly bright bedroom. The ceiling had skylights which flooded the room with light and John was left puzzled as he lay in bed staring up at the blue sky only marred by the occasional fluffy white cloud which floated along.

If the sun was risen then it was late and groaning John turned and groped on the bedside table for his watch which confirmed his suspicions it was almost nine…he hadn't slept this late in months maybe even years, so it was no wonder the space beside him in bed was as empty and cold as his hands confirmed for him. Missy had clearly risen some time ago but had let him sleep in rather than wake him and John couldn't completely contain his huff of annoyance, whether from her absence or the fact she hadn't woken him he couldn't be certain. All he was certain of was the sight of her empty side of the bed; of a dented pillow missing those dark curls bothered him.

Of course it could also have something to do with that she had left him to deal with his morning greeting all by himself.

Despite the previous night's activities or perhaps because of them his friend was being particularly adamant about it this morning and grumbling under his breath John threw aside the constricting blankets and made his way naked into Missy's bathroom. She wasn't in here either and John felt his annoyance grow rather than abate as he turned on the shower and stepped under the warm spray.

It was ridiculous, he had gone almost twelve months without any form of sexual contact and John hadn't cared at the time, the idea of intimacy had terrified him, probably because he had been certain he would fail to measure up. Until last night he wasn't even certain he would be able to perform sexually, yet it seemed Missy had unleashed a monster in him or perhaps it was simply twelve months of depriving himself. Either way his not so little problem wasn't going away.

Lathering up Missy's soap John paused momentarily to inhale the familiar scent of roses, allowing his eyes to close as he took himself in hand and recalled the hazy memories from the night before…the feel...the sensation of being buried inside her…the exquisite torture delaying release and then the agonising delight of coming hard in that hot wet sheaf. Thrusting hard against his pumping hand John could almost imagine himself there again, Missy bucking and squirming beneath him as he pinned her hot little body with…his…own….

"Mi…"

Bracing his other arm against the shower wall John all but exploded over the slick tiles, his knees weakening as he continued to stroke his spurting cock, mimicking to the best of his ability the way Missy seemed to milk him for every last drop. Finally spent he opened his eyes and immediately blushed bright red as he caught sight of the mess he had made and the reflection of his silent observer.

For a long moment his gaze bore into her reflected one as neither spoke and John had to squash the reaction to cover himself her gaze so intense it seemed to be stripping him bare. The inequity of their position was stark; him caught and exposed her calm and once again her usual put together self.

"Sorry am I interrupting? There is no need to stop on my account." Missy quipped unable to resist teasing him, the poor boy looked like he was going to burn up from embarrassment and it was unbelievable cute. As was the way his wet silver grey curls fell down over his forehead and Missy could already feel her resolution ebbing. Part of her wanted nothing more than to strip off her dressing gown and join him under the spray, to feel those talented hands of his moving just as rigorously over her flesh.

"I'm afraid you missed the floor show." John grunted uncomfortably suddenly unable to meet those bright blue eyes of hers. Perhaps it was his age showing or perhaps his lack of confidence in himself but John wasn't the type of man who could just brazen out getting caught giving himself a hand job by the very woman he had been fantasying about.

"Don't worry I caught the finale." Missy retorted a smile playing about her lips as she dropped the fresh towels outside the shower cubical.

"Take as much time as you like the water's not metered, however I do have some coffee waiting for you." She added teasingly, relishing the way John's shoulders seemed to hunch in on themselves. Mortified clearly was not the word and Missy had to use all of her restraint not to laugh out loud….teasing was one thing after all but humiliating him was not her goal.

Stepping back into her bedroom Missy set about the mundane task of stripping and remaking the bed, although she deliberately left the existing pillow case on John's side of the bed, if he chose not the stay the night tonight at least she would have the reassuring scent of him to hold on to. Bundling up the stained and rumpled sheets into a bag for the dry cleaners Missy also added her much abused blouse from the night before, hopefully they would able to fix that little tear, she was suddenly inexplicably fond of the garment and would rather not have to dispose of it.

Hearing the water of the shower turn off Missy prepared herself for round two of her plan. Round one had been surprisingly effective already. Opening her wardrobe she pulled out several different potential outfits, she had an appointment at the office in a hour and her day was unpleasantly full after that, even so that didn't mean she couldn't give John something to stew over whilst she was gone. Having used the guest bathroom to shower, dry her hair and fix her makeup all that was left to do was to finish getting dressed.

She had already picked her underwear for the day, the apricot coloured silk and lace French knickers and matching balcony bra gave her a playful air that Missy felt like capitalising on. Unfastening her dressing gown to allow her choice of underwear to peak out before selecting some nude hold ups Missy propped one foot up on her dressing table stool then deliberately ignoring John's towel clad reappearance Missy bent down to wiggle the rolled up stocking over her painted toes before slowly smoothing it up and over her calf and thigh.

He couldn't help but stare.

Stare as she bent over and treated him to flash of soft skin-toned silk.

Stare as he watched those talented fingers run over and caress her bare skin as she slid the stocking on.

Stare as he caught sight in the mirror of her full breasts encased in the same coloured silk, the colour made her pale skin glow, made the vivid red love bite that he had left between her breasts stand out in stark contrast.

She was like a god damn siren and John was convinced he was no longer in control of his own actions as he closed the distance between them and made a clumsy grab for one of those silk covered globes.

Missy had seen his approach in the mirror and she did her best to suppress her smirk, feigning innocent surprise as John suddenly appeared and made an awkward attempt to paw at her. Batting aside his grasping hand Missy twirled out of his reach like a seasoned ballerina, retreating with her remaining stocking to the edge of the bed where she slid it on smoothly with expert precision.

"Now John be a good boy and let me get dressed." Missy tutted reproachfully even as her fingers unfastened the belt of her robe and she shrugged it off of her shoulders leaving herself exposed to John's hungry gaze.

"No." The answer was simple and came from his gut, or perhaps lower as John soaked up every visible inch of her, catching the end of the smirk Missy tried so desperately to suppress. So this was a game, Missy was toying with him, teasing him with no intention of giving him what he wanted.

"I have a client in an hour. I don't have time to indulge you." Missy countered breathlessly as John Smith continued to stare at her like he was one step away from devouring her whole, surprising herself by the way that look alone was causing her stomach to squirm.

"Call in sick. We can spend the day together."

"I have a day full of appointments I can't cancel them all Mary would kill me."

"I'll talk to Mary. Tell you are too ill to come to the phone."

"Then she'd know I was really faking!" Missy huffed unable to resist smiling at his persistence before her smile turned coy and running her hand over the neatly pressed sheets. "Of course my appointments finish at three…."

"So that's what you want, me to hang about here all day panting for you like your little lapdog." John grunted his eyebrows creasing in a frown as he retrieved the hand towel he had dropped and used it to roughly dry his hair. He was disappointed and the sour taste curdled in his stomach, he had wanted her to be more, to mean more. Was he an idiot to have actually believed she wanted him as more than just a quick fuck? "No deal."

Pouting in genuine annoyance at his sudden change of attitude Missy crossed her arms under her breasts, pressing against her cleavage which now strained perilously against the skimpy restraint. "I beg your pardon?"

"And as pretty as your tits are even getting them out isn't going to change my mind." John snapped catching an eyeful of Missy's cleavage even as he dragged on his trousers. "Sorry."

"Right so it is fine for you to expect me to cancel my paying clients to indulge you but when I even so much as intimate you might consider hanging around to wait for me that is going too far? I never took you for being a chauvinist John." Missy growled stalking around the bed to confront him. "Talk about double standards."

"No the only thing this is about is you playing a game with me, well I am nobody's toy, I am a person with feelings and I refuse to allow you to dictate this. I refuse to allow you to use me…"

"Use you!" Missy couldn't help it; this man seemed to have an inflated sense of his own talents and an unerring talent for pushing her buttons. "How in the hell have I used you?"

"You know how, did you think I wouldn't work it out?" John retorted stepping closer until he was practically towering over her, the difference in their heights now quite stark when she was barefoot, not that it made her any less formidable. "I thought you were my friend, I thought my time was all you wanted…I thought I mattered to you...me as a person… but all the time it was just an experiment, you played me Missy and I let you. I let you because I was tired and alone and desperate…"

He should have expected the slap…and she certainly didn't hold back surprising him with the power that was contained in such a tiny little frame. Even so his grip was firm as he caught her wrist and held it captive. It was the first time anyone had struck him since his release and John felt himself teetering dangerously on the edge of a place he didn't want to go.

"I wouldn't do that again if I were you."

"How dare you." Missy all but screamed in his face, tugging on her captive wrist with all of her strength but John held on firmly but not enough to actually hurt, and in a different time Missy might have been impressed by his control.

"How dare you stand there all high and mighty judging me when you are the biggest liar of them all? So what if I wanted more than friendship from you, so what if I planned for us to end up here, you followed my lead you chose to come to my bed, so don't you try and dump your guilt on me John Smith. I never lied and I never led you on, you do matter to me and I do want you, although right now I am beginning to question my own damn judgement."

"You..." The words caught in his throat and John could only stare down in horror at Missy's flushed face, already his mind was dissecting and picking over her words, whirling at a hundred miles an hour as his emotions fluctuated just as quickly from horror to relief to elation then back to dismay. "You know."

"I guessed, it wasn't hard Darling, I am not an idiot."

"But you still…" John was struggling to keep up, he had assumed Missy was talking about Clara but if she was then why had she still pursued him. "I don't understand why you would want…"

"Because clearly despite my protests I am an idiot that's why." Missy spat back, her careful plans in shattered around her there was no need to play pretend anymore and her heart gave a painful lurch, not even twenty four hours surely a new record even for her.

"Because I wanted you too much to give a damn about the collateral damage, I tried not to, at the black tie event when you came to find me I was determined to leave and never think of you again but then you refused to let me leave and I…I just couldn't stop myself."

"Neither could I." John admitted softly releasing Missy's wrist so he could cup her face gently between his palms and lift her face to meet his gaze. "I didn't have to meet you, I knew I probably shouldn't, that it was wrong but I just couldn't stop myself."

"Then I suppose we are both idiots." Missy replied relieved when John sighed and managed a half smile.

"I suppose so." He whispered softly stroking the curve of her cheekbone. "So you wanted me that badly you really set out to seduce me?"

"I did but don't let it go to your head John Smith." Reaching up Missy pressed her own hand to his cheek. "I am not using you John I do want you, I want you so badly that it terrifies me."

Leaning up on her tiptoes she brushed her lips against his, relieved beyond measure when he didn't pull away. For a moment they stayed that way lips lightly touching before Missy sighed and sank back down from her tip toes.

"I don't think I have ever been terrifying before." John quipped lightly drawing his hands down the slope of her neck and over her delicate shoulders, over the sleek lines of her back to settle on the dip of her waist.

"I'm serious." Missy whispered.

"So am I." John teased relieved when Missy merely huffed her disbelief and batted her fist playfully at his chest. "I want you too but this is such a mess and I…I am such a coward for letting it get this far."

"What are you saying John?"

"I'm saying…God knows what I am saying." John replied resting his cheek against the top of her head and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I care about you Marsaili and I don't want to hurt you, but if I don't sort out this mess my life is then that is all I am going to do…I have a…Clara is more than just my friend."

"I told you I guessed that." Missy replied yet there was a difference in hearing it confirmed from his lips and her heart gave a painful lurch and Missy tightened her grip on John instinctively as though afraid with this sudden revelation he was going to vanish. "I don't care."

"We live together." John admitted hating himself as he heard the sharp intake of breath that Missy tried to hide.

"Please spare me the we haven't shared a bed in months line." Missy muttered into his chest. "I am not going to fall for it."

"I won't even though it's true." John murmured. "I haven't been the man she fell in love with for a very long time and I am not sure I still love her or I am just terrified by the thought of having to cope on my own. I haven't been well and I would never have survived until now without her. She is sweet and kind and she doesn't deserve this kind of betrayal."

Refusing to allow herself to cry Missy pushed herself out of John's embrace; she just couldn't be touching him right now.

"Marsaili?"

"I'm fine, you're right she doesn't." And the rational part of her mind could accept that, it was just the other 95% of her that wanted to rip the other brunette's hair out. "So I guess that's it then…we call it a day…"

Watching Missy turn and walk away was like being punched hard in the stomach and for a moment John couldn't breathe, then when she spoke about ending things John knew for certain that it had already gone too far to just walk away and let things go back to how they had been. Too much had changed, he had changed and he didn't want to go back even if he could.

Stepping forward he gripped her shoulders firmly, bending down to press a kiss to one and then another to the nape of her neck. "No…No…" He insisted urgently before pressing his lips to the smooth skin behind the delicate curve of her ear relishing the way she shivered under his touch. "I should…but I can't…I can't give you up." He insisted hands sliding off the straps from her shoulders before finding the clasp and quickly wrenching the clothing from her body.

Hands now cupped naked breasts as he squeezed and kneaded them relishing the throaty moan as Missy sank back against him and covered his hands with her own before guiding one of his hands south under the waistband of her knickers and John followed eagerly before stopping dead in surprise.

"Don't you like it?" Missy questioned timidly reassured slightly when John's fingers resumed their previous intent and she felt him explore her new bareness.

Soft and smooth John was surprised but not unpleasantly so, there was something viscerally appealing about being to touch even last inch of her and he found his interest piqued. "Lay down on the bed."

"John?"

"Please." He added pressing a final kiss to her neck and guiding Missy to sit down on the edge of the bed, stopping her before she could scoot back more than a few inches. Then dropping to his knees he reached out and hooked his fingers around the waist band of her knickers, teasing them down until her new look was revealed.

"Are you just going to stare at it John Smith?" Missy huffed from her prone position on the bed, propping herself up on her elbows she scowled lightly at him. "Get on with it god damn you."

Spreading her thighs John muffled his chuckle against her skin, feeling Missy start in surprise as his hot breath ghosted over her highly sensitive skin. Then pressing his lips to the top of her thigh he slid his fingers over her, trailing his rough thumb pad over and spreading her gently enjoying the whimper and impatient huff from Missy as she wiggled against his light touch like a cat demanding to be fussed.

"Patience pet." John chided rewarding her stillness with fingers dipping between her folds. She was already wet, that amazed him, he had barely touched her and already his fingertip was coated. So either losing her temper turned Missy on or the lady had protested too much earlier, or perhaps it was a combination of both. Either way John filed that knowledge away for later before finally indulging Missy, relishing the way her hips practically lifted off the bed as he thrust two fingers inside her.

"I could take a third." Missy suggested from the bed as John pumped his dexterous digits inside her, they really were wonderful, so long and flexible.

"I am sure you could but I want you tight." John muttered back curling his fingers as he searched for that particularly spot inside her that made her toes curl.

Only when Missy's hands were fisting at the bed sheets did he move his mouth to cover the engorged little nub that was standing up and begging for his attention. Tongue and teeth and she was crying out the most obscene language and John couldn't help but lift up his head and laugh, only scowling when Missy's hands moved from the bed sheets to his hair and all but forced his face back between her thighs smothering him in the process. A sharp twist to her clit as punishment was enough to send Missy falling over the edge and John rocked back on his heels to watch her climax.

Beautiful…

Beautiful and his…

He knew that in his bones, like he knew his own name…Mine…it was primitive and illogical and yet none of that made it untrue and he had to have her or go mad with the want of her.

Trousers joined her underwear on the floor, his hands cupping her arse as John pushed Missy further up the bed before joining her on top of it. Mouth to mouth wet demanding kisses, her breasts pressed against the firm length of his chest, his cock pressing inside her. Missy was still coming down from her first orgasm and John had to fight his way inside her contracting walls. Her shaking legs wrapped around his waist as he drove her back towards those dizzying heights for a second time, her fingers clawing wildly at his hair and his buttocks as she tried to drag him deeper inside her….One…the same…Mine…

John wasn't sure if it was him saying it or Missy or even if it was just in his own head, either way the sentiment remained unchanged. Right now he wasn't certain where she began and he ended, whether the whimpers and cries he heard were his own or came from between her lips and he didn't care, nothing mattered but her and this bliss they could create between them. Then they were falling, crying out and crying literally.

Heart pounding so loudly it sounded like a drum beat in his ears John Smith found the strength to roll over onto his back, Missy following him and John's arms came up automatically to cradle her. He could feel her breath and her tears against his chest, his fingers raking soothingly through her hair as she continued to shake from the intense aftereffects of her orgasm. For a long moment they just lay like this, breathing finally slowing, heartbeat returning to normal and yet neither wanted to be the one to break the spell.

There was time enough to come back to earth, reality and all its problems would intrude all too quickly of that fact at least John had no doubts, but for right now he pushed the others away refused to let them tarnish this moment. Let the real world wait a little longer.

-/-


	7. Chapter 7

Work Text:

Confrontation

-/-

He had put it off as long as he could…longer than he should have if John Smith was being honest with himself. Yet as his feet trod along the familiar street and his house came in sight John had to squash the impulse to turn around and flee. To return to that blissful state of wilful ignorance that he had indulged in over the last few days…deliberately indulged in…

The Friday spent lolling around in bed with Missy had quite naturally spiralled into Saturday and since Missy eschewed anything remotely domestic like cooking into a very late brunch at a nearby bistro. That spiralled into a trip to a nearby second-hand bookstore that Missy insisted he visit. Several hours had been lost in there simply browsing through the stacks and John's excitement had been palpable when he found a first edition of one his favourites.

Another hour or so more had been wasted in fruitless entertaining argument over who should buy it. John wasn't accustomed to receiving gifts but Missy had insisted on purchasing it as it would save her searching to find him a Christmas present. That had led quite naturally onto another heated discussion over what he should get for her in return. John hated shopping for other people he admitted it quite openly, despised it in fact and was surprised when Missy wholeheartedly agreed with him and offered to help by picking her own present.

Which led quite naturally to John Smith being proved wrong for one of the few times in life…

Well one of the first times he would openly admit to but it had been surprisingly enjoyable helping Missy pick out some new underwear from one of her favourite boutiques. He had purchased far more than he had intended to and the shop assistant who had probably doubled her wages in commission had been only to eager to mention that they kept Dr Saxon's measurements on file just in case he ever felt like popping back in and picking up something to surprise her with.

A bag full of ladies underthings in tow John had been only too delighted to oblige when Missy insisted on returning home to gain his opinion on her present…not that they had gotten past the first outfit…John supposed he would get around to seeing the others eventually.

So now it was Sunday…Sunday lunchtime and Missy had kicked him out claiming that even she needed time to recuperate otherwise she would look positively haggard for her Monday clients, especially as thanks to him she now had a full day's work to suffer through. It was an excuse he knew it and she knew that he knew it but John supposed she was right to do it, he couldn't hide away in her apartment forever…he had to face the consequences of his actions.

Shoving his hands into his pocket John's fingers closed around his dead mobile phone. He didn't need to charge it to guess what he would find on it when he did and part of John wanted nothing more than to throw it away so he never had to go through the purgatory of listening and deleting all those panicked voicemails Clara had probably left for him. In his other fist he gripped his house keys, retrieving them and putting the Yale key in the lock John took a deep breath in preparation for what might be lurking on the other side…tears, anger, accusations he deserved them all.

Before he could turn the key in the lock the door was being opened from the inside and John swallowed nervously as a certain diminutive brunette appeared framed in the doorway.

For a moment her emotions seemed to fight for purchase across her face, eyes wide and tearstained, mouth firm with anger and yet her chin seemed to tremble.

"I'm s…." John began his apology cut off as Clara's little hand lashed out and caught him firmly across the cheek knocking the words right out of him.

Then just as suddenly as her hand had struck Clara was flinging herself at him, her little hands going around his neck as she seemed to hang from him the fury of her pent up tears now being vented against his broad shoulder and John could only stand there awkward and uncomfortable. Realising he had to do something and that asking her to please get off would only get him another slap John patted her back clumsily in what was an approximation of a soothing gesture.

Standing in the open doorway a sobbing girl hanging around his neck and half in his arms John had to suppress the wish for the ground to open up and swallow him. What had he been thinking, he wasn't cut out for this, he didn't know what to do, it was embarrassing and he could hear the barely whispered muttering of people passing by in the street, they were putting on quite the spectacle. Somehow John managed to shuffle them further into the hall, shutting the front door with a satisfying slam, and shutting out the prying eyes of the neighbourhood. Now at least he only had his crying girlfriend to deal with…

"Clara? Are you alright?"

The sound of a man's voice calling up from the kitchen immediately wrong-footed him and John could only stare in growing irritation as footsteps and then a handsome young man appeared, his dark eyes widening in surprise and then narrowing in anger as he caught sight of John and the crying Clara.

"Finally bothered to come back then." The young man retorted, just barely on the side of politeness for a guest in his house and John couldn't help the instant aversion to him that formed in his gut.

"I'm sorry who are you?" John spluttered, choosing not to add the confrontational and what the hell are you doing in my house on the end. Yet clearly he didn't need to say it as the message was broadcast loud clear.

"Clara's friend, the one she called when you pulled your little Houdini act." He replied curtly and John couldn't help but scowl at the possessive way the boy said his girlfriend's name.

"Danny don't." Clara finally spoke letting go of a relieved John long enough to wipe away the remains of her tears with the back of her hand.

"Why not you are not going to just let him walk back in here and all's forgiven. You've been worried sick. She's been out of her mind because of you!" Danny added the last jibe aimed squarely at John. "You've been reported missing if you care about such things; we've been to visit every single hospital with your picture, driven around half the city…"

"Danny…"

"No let him finish Clara clearly your friend here is trying to make a point!" John snorted, his tone twisting the word friend in a suggestive manner that earned him a death glare from Clara and a look of disgust from Danny boy.

"Don't you dare." Clara's words were softly spoken but there was no denying the steel behind them and John felt the tinge of shame colour his cheeks.

"You right I'm sorry I shouldn't…" He began guilt churning his stomach when he recalled just how he had spent the last few days.

"No you should not." Clara growled before pulling herself together and turning to face their guest. "Danny perhaps you should…"

Deflating slightly at her words Danny shuffled uncomfortably before grudgingly agreeing and John couldn't help but smirk as the young suitor was dismissed so easily.

"Are you sure you don't want me to…"

"I'm sure." Clara replied with a forced certainty that John knew her well enough to recognise but clearly Danny didn't. "I'll see you at work alright." She added elbowing John out of the way as she opened the door for Danny.

"If you need anything you call me!" Danny paused on the threshold, his dark eyes softening noticeably as only Clara filled his gaze. "I mean it no trying to be all brave and stoic."

Snorting at what was clearly an injoke between them Clara nodded before leaning up and pressed a brief kiss to Danny's stubbled cheek causing him to start in pleasant surprise. "Thank you." She whispered gazing up into the young man's face and for a moment John was the one who felt like the intruder, the voyeur on a private moment. Then just as quickly it was over and Clara was shutting the door behind him. An awkward silence descending in the hallway and for a moment John actually wished for Danny to return just so he could postpone this moment a little longer.

Then Clara was pushing herself away from the door, turning back to him. Tears spent her face was now a blank slate…those big brown eyes of hers dead and glassy looking as she stared at him and through him and John felt the flicker of fear as Clara stalked towards him.

"I think you have some serious explaining to do."

-/-

Tea…once upon a time John had actually thought it had magical properties and could cure anything.

Whenever he had fallen over as a young child or gotten picked on by the other boys in the neighbourhood John's grandmother would always pull him onto her lap, wrap him up gently in her oversized cardigan that doubled as a housecoat and let him sip on a sugary cup of tea as she rocked him gently. After a few minutes of such genuine love and attention John inevitable had forgotten what had made him cry in the first place, his grandmother's affection and the sweet balm of tea had cured all.

Now as he stood in the kitchen awkwardly fixing a pot of tea for him and Clara John could only wish for those innocent days of childhood. Tea was not going to fix things this time. Stirring the pot John busied himself with finding a couple of clean cups, adding milk and far too much sugar to his own…

"Where were you?"

It was a simple question and John only wished he could give her a simple answer.

"Does it really matter?"

"It does to me." Clara replied. "Doctor don't lie to me. I know you too well remember. You are standing there trying to think of an answer that you think I want to hear well don't just…just tell me the truth surely you owe me that much?"

Sighing John turned and set the tea down on the kitchen table, strategically taking the seat opposite Clara so that he at least had the expanse of the wooden table between him and her sharp little fists. "I owe you much more than that Clara as I think we both know."

"Yes." Clara replied dryly, her hands reaching out and tugging the mug of warm tea towards her, wrapping her small hands around the cup like a life preserver she was desperately clinging on to. "But since we never get what we deserve I am asking for you not to lie to me…not this time…just tell me where you have been."

Leaning back in his chair John couldn't meet and yet he couldn't avoid Clara's piercing gaze, those large eyes of hers seemed to bore into him no matter what. Rubbing his hands over his face before moving up to tug on his hair John could only squirm before the truth finally made its way onto his tongue. "I…I was with somebody else."

The trembling bottom lip was clamped down on severely and John could only watch as Clara's gaze suddenly dropped to her tea unable to even bear looking at him.

"I'm sorry but you did ask for the truth…"

"A woman somebody?" Clara questioned, prodding at the newly made wound like a child prodding a dead animal carcass with a stick, knowing it was sick and wrong but unable to resist doing it.

"Yes."

Gulping down a mouthful of the hot liquid not caring if it burned on the way down Clara could only nod, her fingers tightening as she dug her nails into the porcelain surface. "The whole time?"

"Yes." John admitted and it was almost cathartic to finally admit it. "Yes the whole time."

"And this woman is a…?" Clara paused, her eyes suddenly lifted from studying her drink to gaze at him in desperate hope. "A friend?"

"More than a friend." John confessed, hating to be the one to dash her hopes all over again but this had to be done, like ripping off a band-aid it had to be done fast and all at once. "I spent the weekend with someone else…in someone else's bed."

Now there was no hiding the sudden whimper of pain and shock and John automatically reached across the table to take her hand only for Clara to wrench it away like his touch had scolded her and she had every reason to.

"Now you are prepared to touch me?" Clara accused him aghast as though this was an even greater betrayal than his infidelity. "Months of keeping me at arm's length, barely tolerating my touch and never reaching out for me…But now!" After he had spent the weekend in another woman's bed and arms.

"You dare…" Clara gagged unable to swallow down such an ugly truth. "You complete and utter bastard!"

Smarting from that insult John clenched his jaw unable to think of anything he could say that could make any of this better, for a man with a gift for words he was suddenly bereft of them. For a long moment he stared down into his untouched tea, his rolling stomach rebelling at the idea of taking even a single sip.

"How long?" The sudden question after so long sitting in silence threw John for a moment and he frowned slightly.

"How long have you been…seeing her?" Clara clarified clearly amended her choice of words and for that John was grateful.

"A few weeks." He answered softly. "But it didn't…we didn't…" He paused unable to fight the flush as memories of just what he had been doing with Missy Saxon were suddenly front and centre in his thoughts. "…Go to bed together until this weekend…"

"Oh well as long as you got to know her first." Clara muttered sarcastically, her tone brittle and tight. "I mean I don't know if that is supposed to make this better or worse, that my boyfriend isn't just randomly jumping into bed with complete strangers for a quick fuck or that he has actually been seeing another woman behind my back for weeks? It was at least good I hope? What am I saying it must have been considering you stayed with her for three whole days!"

"Clara please don't." John flinched at her crudeness suddenly feeling every one of his fifty-six years.

"Don't you dare tell me what to do!" Clara hissed, pupils now blown wide with rage. "How dare you…How dare you?"

"I didn't plan this you know." John insisted, unable to simply sit here without even trying to defend himself. "I didn't go out looking to have an affair."

"And that's supposed to make it all better Doctor?" Clara raged pushing herself up from the table to pace back and forth her hands now waving wildly. "I mean you are clearly the innocent victim in all this, you probably tripped up and accidentally landed on top of her."

"We were friends nothing more…." John began before forcing himself to back track a little, he had promised not to lie.

"No that's no entirely true I'll admit it. I wanted her the first time I laid eyes on her but I wouldn't have…I didn't do anything about it. I walked away." He insisted and Clara finally stopped pacing long enough to listen.

"But then fate just kept throwing us together and I…" He sighed admitting the truth to himself as well as her. "And then I didn't want to fight it anymore."

"I see." Clara whispered sinking back heavily into her chair like all the fight had suddenly gone out of her, yet her next question really knocked John for six. "Are you in love with her?"

"I…I…" There were no words. John didn't have an answer to that question. His feelings for Missy were too new, too raw, too much to be so simply classified. He knew he wanted her, he knew he felt more alive when he was with her than he could ever remembering feeling, was that what it felt like to be in love? It had been so long, another lifetime surely since he had felt anything like this for another person that he wasn't certain he could judge.

Bottom lip trembling when he didn't immediately deny it Clara could only forge onward. "Do you still love me?"

"I do." That was an easier answer and John hated the way it seemed to make Clara sigh in relief, she didn't understand still. "I think there will always be a part of me that loves you Clara Oswald."

That clearly was not what she had been hoping he would say, fresh tears brimmed in her dark eyes, the whites of them were now tinged with red from all the crying. "But you're not in love with me are you?"

Taking in a deep breath John felt the truth being ripped from him, and like a fresh wound it bled freely and deeply. "Oh Clara I only wish I could say I was, God knows it would make things a hell of a lot simpler."

"Were you ever?"

She had to ask. No one could ever accuse Clara of being a coward that was for certain, only John wished she wouldn't. He had promised not to lie but there were no answers that he could give her that weren't going to do anything else but hurt her more.

"Doctor?"

"I think I could have the way I was before, I cared about you a great deal I still do but…"

But it wasn't the same, he wasn't the same. She was the same bright darling of a girl and he had loved having someone to impress, the old him had been a bit of a show off on occasion. The new him loved her for altogether different reasons, for her kindness and steadfastness, for her patience and fierce determination, determination that had often been the only thing keeping him from ending everything at his own hands.

"You saved my life you have to know that." John whispered desperate for her to really hear him now. "Without you and your capacity to hope I would have never have lasted a month. You gave me strength when I needed it most."

"Yeah." Clara sighed wiping at her tearstained cheeks before laughing ruefully. "So I guess you just don't need me anymore? Not now you've got somebody else to support you. Somebody better…"

"It's not…" John sighed. "It is not a contest Clara."

"Why not it has a winner and a loser doesn't it?" Clara retorted her laughter turning bitter. "And I'm the loser aren't I? I have invested the last year of my life in supporting you, of holding you back from the brink and putting up with everything that entails and then just when I have the last bit of hope that things might finally be getting better…I am not an idiot you know, I knew something was going on. You were being too secretive even for you, disappearing and not answering your phone, but do you know what I thought?"

John shook his head not daring to speak, knowing she had the right to get this all out.

"I thought it was drugs. You seemed so energised every time you came home, I thought you were going out and taking drugs. And do you what is really sick; what makes me hate myself right now? I think I would have preferred that to be honest. Even though I have spent the last three days convinced you were going to be found in a gutter somewhere or floating in the Thames. Don't you get that Doctor you just vanished, you could have told me the truth before, you could have picked up the phone or answered one of my messages just to let me know you weren't dead somewhere!"

And she was right he could have, he should have. It was a cruel thing to admit to but if he was being honest when John was with Missy, when she was demanding and engaging his complete attention John's thoughts had rarely considered Clara at all…and that was what really made him a bastard, not his unfortunate parentage.

"I don't know what to say." John admitted. "Everything you say is true…"

"Only it doesn't change anything, does it?" Clara asked lifting her eyes to meet his gaze and seeing the answer reflected in his eyes. Smiling sadly she hugged her petite frame, trying to hold herself together. "Well there really is nothing left to say is there?"

Shaking his head John had to agree. "I am truly sorry Clara, please try to believe that. I never planned this; I never wanted to hurt you."

"I believe you are sorry in your own way." Clara sighed suddenly feeling so tired and drained by the whole thing. "Not as sorry as I am though…a year Doctor…you have no idea how hard it has been, how many times I came so close to just packing up and walking out that door but I stuck it out because I was so sure it would all be worth it in the end. Only now I'm leaving anyway."

"Clara you don't have to…I was the one responsible I should…"

"Yes I do this is your house." Clara replied her tone firm and brooking no argument. "I think I have to, for me, for my own sanity…I'll just pack enough for a few days…I'll go to my gran's until I can sort something permanent out, someone at school probably knows someone who is looking for a housemate or I might even be able to afford a little place of my own…I mean I've not exactly been paying rent here now have I and I have quite a bit saved up because of that. I'll be fine."

"Clara if you need anything, please let me help in any way I can." John pleaded it really was the least he could do considering.

"You can call me a cab; I'll need an hour to get my things together." Clara replied her tone curt and business like as she pushed herself from the table and tugged at the bottom of her cardigan, hesitating before forcing herself to take one step and then another towards the stairs and the task she had set herself.

John remained seated at the table, his fingers locked around his cooling cup of tea as he stared across the table to Clara's abandoned cup. Tea really didn't make things better but it at least gave him something else to focus on other than the retreating back of his…former girlfriend. Lifting up the cup John took a sip of the now lukewarm liquid, wincing at the taste, it really was terrible tea.

"Doctor…"

Startled as John had already assumed she had left he lifted his head from his study of the table top to meet Clara's gaze, her big brown eyes wide as she chewed on her bottom lip.

"Yes Clara?"

For a moment the words seemed to stick in her mouth, Clara opened her mouth once only to close it, turning back to the stairs before stopping and turning back to him. "I know it shouldn't matter but I need to ask…I need to know Doctor who is she?"

"Clara…"

"Please you owe me an answer." Clara insisted. "Otherwise I'll have no peace I'll just keep wondering; you said she was a friend and I…"

Realising what she was really asking John shook his head. "She is not someone you know."

"Then it can't hurt to tell me." Clara countered determinedly and John sighed in defeat, Clara was not the type to budge when she had her mind set on something and if it would help her in some way...

"Marsaili." He replied watching the way Clara's expression seemed to shatter as the depth of his betrayal finally became evident. "Her name is Marsaili."

-/-


	8. Chapter 8

Work Text:

Impasse

-/-

He hadn't called…

Four days and nothing…

Sitting behind her desk in the relative privacy of her office Missy Saxon allowed herself to do something she rarely did, admit to being worried. She was trying to play it cool, to not let John Smith get to her but dammit that blasted man had crept under her skin and now Missy couldn't stop thinking about him. Perhaps it had been a mistake to have made him leave on Sunday? God knows the poor man had shown little enthusiasm for the idea and it didn't take a genius to figure out why.

The girlfriend…Clara.

Just the thought of her caused Missy's stomach to churn as she remembered just how pretty and sweet Clara had seemed in the few minutes Missy had actually been in her company. Yet more worrying instead of her physical merits were the level of control she seemed to be able to exert over John. It was Clara who had instructed him to sit at the black tie event and John had complied without even a flicker of conscious thought. It was Clara who had made the appointment and sent him to Missy in the first place and John had complied, most unwillingly and voicing his objections loudly but he hadn't dared to disobey.

Besides John hadn't explicitly said he was going home to break up with his girlfriend had he?

Oh it was implied…or had Missy simply been reading into the situation what she had been hoping to find? What if John had no intention of breaking the news to Clara at all? What if he preferred to keep Missy as his dirty little secret? He wouldn't be the first man who had proposed the idea of her becoming his mistress.

No he wouldn't…he couldn't do that…Missy knew it, she didn't know what evidence she had to base this certainty on but deep in her bones she just knew. John Smith was no player. He would never have even found himself willingly in this situation to start with if she hadn't led him into it. She had wanted him and she had played him, she knew it and he knew it and that was the crux of her current disquiet.

Why should he choose her?

Perhaps after he had gotten home on Sunday John had confessed all to the lovely Clara, the diminutive brunette would have been upset, probably angry but would she leave? Or would she insist on staying and trying to sort things out? Would John be strong enough to resist the guilt and the pull of Clara's forgiveness…for her…that was the crux of the issue…did she mean enough to John Smith that he would stand firm against the tears and the pleading and the lure of forgiveness?

What could she give him that made her special?

Clara was beautiful and young and not laden down with all of Missy's baggage.

Clara stood for the status quo and stability and not losing face or having to face criticism from others.

Clara could give him everything she couldn't…

It was times like these Missy loathed her chosen profession, even as part of her clung to hope the rational part of her mind was repeating by rote…men did not leave their partners…men didn't file for divorce… Oh they would complain about their partners, would cheat on them and promise to leave but nine times out of ten those were empty promises given to placate naive women and Missy Saxon was anything but naive.

Even so she couldn't help but hope so maybe that made her a naive fool after all.

Only one thing was certain and that was sitting here stewing in her uncertainty wasn't doing her any good. Missy was a woman of action and this inaction was driving her insane. She needed to know what was going on, she needed to know where she stood even if it was bad news because the waiting and hoping and dreading was going to drive her back to a place Missy had sworn never to return to.

Even now she could feel the itch building under her skin, it was an itch that never really went away despite her many years of being clean. Missy could feel the hanker for that numb state of bliss growing, like a knot of hunger deep in her belly that growled. Yet even one hit would be one hit to many and no man, not even John Smith, was ever going to drive her back to those dark months after Theo's death. Missy had worked too hard, had clawed herself out of a hole so deep and dark that other people died inside buried alive in a tomb of their own making. Even now the darkness still lingered at the back of her mind, never gone completely, like her shadow it dogged her steps never letting her forget what she was underneath beneath her designer clothing and her painted smile…druggie…thief…murderer…

Pushing herself up from her desk Missy fought down the sob that caught in her throat, fingers tightening on the edge of the desktop. One breathe in slow…one two three… and then out through the nose… The controlled breathing exercise was not one she had to resort to in a while but it was good to know the old methods still held their weight.

Finally able to think a little more rationally Missy allowed her mind to pick apart the situation. She needed an answer. She needed to talk to John. It was times like this that Missy could actually curse her own brilliance, during their "dates" Missy had avoided exchanging mobile numbers with John, after all if he couldn't call he couldn't cancel on her with some lame text or voicemail. They made their plans for the next meet up at the end of every date and being a gentleman John would have felt obliged to turn up even if he had second thoughts because the idea of standing her up would have gone against his code of behaviour.

Only now this brilliant manipulation of John's character was working against her. John could call her office and Missy had left instructions with Mary that any call she received from a John Smith was to be treated as an emergency and she was to be disturbed even if she was with a client. She couldn't contact him so easily, she didn't have his number she didn't even have his address even though John had dropped a reference to Chelsea at one point. All she had was a standing Thursday afternoon date at the Scottish bakery around the corner.

Clock watching was what she had been relegated to.

God if it wasn't so damn tragic it would be pathetic.

Willing time to go faster…Willing her morning away…Fixing a polite interested expression on her face as her clients bored her with the minutia of their problems whilst all the time Missy was running a countdown in her head.

Two hours…two more hours and then she was free…then she would get her answer…

Digging her fingernails into the soft flesh of her palms Missy forced herself back into her seat as Mary buzzed through and announced her next patient. Fixing the closest approximation of her usual calm composed exterior Missy greeted her client politely, ordered some coffee for them both and tried to force her brain to pay attention to the person in front of her and not the nagging dogged thought that was on repeat at the back of her mind.

What if John never turned up, what if he left her without an explanation, his absence the only indication of his true feelings towards her? What on earth would she do then?

-/-

The shrill ringing of the doorbell was like an irritating penetrating needle being jammed in behind his eyes and John Smith could only groan as reality forced its way inside his study and inside his aching head. Rolling off of the chaise John's hands scrambled across the carpet until they alighted on his glasses, which after a bit more cursing John managed to slide back onto his nose.

The glasses were old fashioned and sturdy, the thick dark frames made John look every one of his fifty six years and possibly even a few more with his unshaven face and general pale unkempt appearance. Yet he had no choice but to wear them as he had run out of the daily contacts he normally wore and that Clara normally picked up from the opticians for him. His order was probably still there waiting for him but John hadn't found the motivation to leave the house just yet.

Now at least able to see, the room was still doing its best to sway in a nauseating fashion but at least it was in focus, John got shakily to his feet.

The unfortunate side-effect of this was that John could now see just how much of a mess his sanctuary was. He had barely left the room since Sunday when he had returned home to confess to Clara about his affair with Missy. There were books pulled from shelves and left where he had dropped them on the floor, dirty clothes were dumped on the sofa along with plates that contained the remains of a Curry or was it a Chinese he had finally got around to ordering when he realised there was literally no food left in the house?

Cups…half-drunk cups of curdled tea…then black tea…then black coffee littered every surface in the room. John knew that the curdled cups had been there since Monday as that was when the milk had run out and he had switched to taking his drinks without it before he had given up on tea or coffee altogether and switched to whiskey that he could swig straight out of the bottle and after that keeping track of time had been somewhat difficult.

Tuesday…Maybe even Wednesday? John wasn't sure but his growling stomach indicated it had been a while since he had last eaten…well something solid…

He drank to stop his brain from thinking, to dull the feelings of guilt and confusion that plagued him as he vented his frustration upon his typewriter, time had little meaning for John as he sifted through the detritus that was his life and extracted the silver lining of inspiration that found its way onto the written page. He was a mess both figuratively and literally, Clara's pained face and her pointed questions going around and around in his mind and yet John was still no closer to an answer now than he had been four days ago.

Had he made a mistake by allowing Clara to leave? His house now felt as empty as tomb without Clara's bright presence breathing life into it and into him. What was he going to do now without her to look after him? Was he in love with Missy Saxon or was it just the thrill that being near her induced that he was addicted to? Yet if it wasn't love and merely an addiction to the thrill of doing something bad why did he want nothing more than to crawl into the safety of Missy's bed and curl up in her arms?

He had made it as far as the front door last night, whiskey bottle in hand and typewriter under his arm before he remembered he didn't know exactly where she lived…

Islington somewhere…a street...her apartment…it was all a blur like a wonderful dream that he had woken up from only to find it wasn't real and John had sunk down on the cold tiled floor unable to stop the tears that had begun to stream down his face. It had only been the jolt of letters dropping down on him at whatever early ungodly hour the post was delivered, that had woken John from his uncomfortable slumber on the cold hallway floor and he had dragged his old aching bones back into the warm sanctuary of his study to sleep off his hangover.

Now even that sanctuary was being invaded and the lingering scent of drink sent his stomach rolling as John lurched unsteadily on his feet towards the door and the ever piercing sound of the dratted doorbell.

"I'm coming I'm coming keep your bloody hair on!" John barked roughly as he forced his legs and feet to cooperate.

Yet before he could even reach the door and yell some more at the idiot who had woken him up the damn door was opening of its own accord before coming to a sudden and noisy stop as it collided with his abandoned typewriter.

"Stop stop you bloody idiot!" John bellowed. It had to be that damn idiot of a cleaner Clara had insisted on hiring.

The idiot in question at least stopped trying to force the door open waiting for a unsteady John to shift the typewriter out of the way. Picking up the poor abused typewriter John cradled it protectively in his arms like a child, turning his old girl over to search for dents or scratches before remembering he had a visitor and wrenching open the door…

"C…Clara?" John spluttered in surprise as the doorstep contained not the incompetent Constance…or Consuela or whatever the cleaner was called but his g…ex-girlfriend who was looking up at him with a mixture of irritation and concern. Yet Clara hadn't come alone as lingering in the background was that itinerant youth Danny something or other who was doing nothing to hide his disgust at John's appearance.

"Sorry I thought you were what's her name the cleaner." John added coming as close to apologising to Clara for his bash manner as he was capable.

"Constance comes on a Tuesday Doctor." Clara replied patiently as if explaining something complicated to one of her pupils, yet when he continued to frown those thick eyebrows at her Clara could feel her patience waning fast. "It's Thursday!"

"No…Surely not…" John insisted hugging his typewriter closer to his chest, he couldn't have lost two days surely?

"Believe me it is." Clara sighed. "I've come to get the rest of my things if that's alright? If you want me to come back another time when it's more convenient…"

"No no of course…Sorry…" John mumbled stepping back and out of the way as Clara stepped inside and made her way towards the stairs leaving John alone with a lingering Danny.

"Well are you going to come in or not?" John barked unable to stand the judging eyes of the younger man on him and unwilling to remain standing in the cold open doorway a moment longer than necessary.

"Well since you asked so nicely." Danny retorted, stepping inside the house, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he caught a nose full of the older man's scent. "You know that is really the oldest and lamest trick in the book."

Scowling as he shuffled down the hallway setting his typewriter down carefully on the hall side table John blanched slightly as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, his eyes were bloodshot and his hair stood up in unruly dirty grey peaks. Running his hands through his wild locks John did his best to retain order yet instead he managed to make the situation worse as now all his hair seemed to stand up in disobedient rebellion.

"She's not going to fall for it." Danny added his voice raised as the Doctor had the nerve to ignore him.

"What are you babbling about?" John finally replied turning to glare at the well groomed young man who was looking at him with such contempt.

"Clara is too smart for this to work…" Danny paused waving his hand in the general direction of his host. "And it's pretty pathetic to try and play on her sympathies like this especially after what you did."

"Young man do people often understand the words coming out of your mouth because I confess I find your unfinished sentences nothing less than cryptic."

"This pity parade of yours!" Danny spat in disgust the cap on his barely bottled emotions finally flying off, allowing the barely restrained emotions full flow.

"Running yourself into the ground in an effort to get her back. I mean god knows it worked well enough over the last year didn't it? So why break a winning formula? God knows you don't seem to care about how it makes her feel, I mean you never did before when she was trying to hold down her job whilst worrying herself sick over you…She had turn down a promotion because of you…they offered her the head of English post a few months ago but she didn't dare take it because it would mean having to be away from home longer each day and she had to get back here to make sure you ate and didn't off yourself."

Stunned by the outburst John could only allow the young man's vitriol to wash over him, yet there were some words and blows that struck deeper than others. He hadn't known about the promotion opportunity, he hadn't asked about Clara's work…hadn't bothered or cared enough…it was just a job after all everyone had one and the idea of teaching anything to children always brought John out in a cold sweat.

"You're pathetic and it's so very disappointing." Danny's tirade now tailed off into a sigh, his dark brows pulled together in an expression of pinched frustration.

Ah…so that was it… It took a moment for John's brain to catch up, it wasn't performing it's best today that was for certain but he could still out think most people even hung over. Danny was a fan, or at least had been one, that he was in love with Clara was also obvious and John felt some of his irritation with the young man fade, at least a little. Clara was very loveable and she deserved someone who would look after her properly. In some ways it made the guilt weight him down a little less knowing that despite the hurt he had caused her she did have someone who cared about her, who would fight for what was right for her and put her first for a change.

"You really aren't seeing me at my best." John muttered more to himself than to Danny as he ran his hand over his unshaven chin, that now he was looking at it in the mirror obviously had more than two days stubble on it. "And I'm not…I wasn't doing this deliberately to play on Clara's sympathies…I just lost track of time…"

"In the bottom of a bottle." Danny finished for him. "Believe me I can smell it."

"I didn't mean to hurt her or neglect her." John added ignoring Danny's barely smothered scoff. "I'll admit it I'm too selfish for her, she gives and gives and I keep taking because I can because she lets me…"

"That is a pretty shitty excuse blaming her…"

"I am not blaming Clara for being kind and generous, I am just pointing out our personalities were always diametrically opposed like that, it could almost work when I was…well the way I was before." John waved aside that excuse. "Then things got bad and I grew dependent upon her, I sucked the life out of her and she let me. Believe me I am well aware that Clara is much better off away from me and I am not trying to get her back."

"Then for god's sake go upstairs and take a shower." Danny spat his patience with John's melancholy clearly at an end. "Shave, change your clothes, tidy up and make her think even if it's a lie that you can cope just fine without her. If not for your own sanity then do it for Clara's, or do you really think that even though you're not together anymore that she doesn't still give a damn about you? That she isn't sat at her gran's worrying herself silly that you're not looking after yourself!"

It was good advice and it only smarted a little that it had come the source it had. To be lectured by a boy still wet behind the ears. John Smith hated to admit he was wrong, yet he had to give Danny a grudging nod as he turned and headed towards the stairs. He was going to fix this, at least the bit of this that he could, he had let Clara go now he had to help her to let go of her lingering responsibilities towards him and then perhaps he could turn his attention to the rest of his life.

One step at a time.

-/-

He wasn't coming.

It had taken three cups of coffee, three quarters of an hour and practically half a side of shortbread for Missy to finally come to that conclusion. Hands shaking she sat down the French romance novel she had been pretending to read, suddenly unable to stand even staring numbly at the terrible dialogue as her own heart lurched uncomfortably in her breast.

John Smith wasn't coming.

It shocked her how truly surprised she was, if it had been anyone else Missy would have bet on precisely this outcome. Men didn't leave their wives/girlfriends, professionally she knew this and now personally she knew this. So what had made her think that John Smith would be any different?

Only she had, deep in her heart she had and it had been stupid of her to do so but in some dark hidden corner of her soul she had begun to make plans…nothing grand…not the wedding and babies that other women gushed over but Sunday's spent sprawled together on the sofa each reading something different, or maybe even a weekend trip away…somewhere quiet with a real fire and a large bed…

"You were nothing but an easy fuck." Missy muttered under her breath, forcing herself to say the words out loud as she brushed the tears from her cheeks.

She was not going to cry over John Smith, not here, not in public.

Wrapping her righteous anger around her like a cloak Missy stood up, leaving her tarnished book on the table no longer caring to know how it would end. That was fiction in the real world there weren't happy endings. Not for people like her. She was too tainted to ever deserve one, she knew it but even so it didn't stop the burn of furious indignation that swept through her.

How dare John Smith do this to her? How dare he insist on her opening up to him and exorcising painful memories for his delectation only to shred her feelings and her trust like it was nothing? He knew…god dammit he knew at least some of what she had been through and still he used her.

Missy wanted to hit him, to strike at him over and over until he felt a fraction of pain she did now. Yet she wasn't sure just who she was angrier at right now, John Smith for being such a convincing liar or herself for being such a naïve idiot?

-/-

It was embarrassing but as he tore into the chicken sandwich in front of him John could hear his stomach growling loudly in appreciation at finally being fed. Feeling his cheek's burning in shame or perhaps from the after effects of his hot shower and close shave John forced himself to meet Clara's pointed gaze and mutter a thank you.

Danny, whose name John had now learnt was Pink…Danny Pink he sounded like he should be treading the boards in some vaudeville drag show…Danny Pink was leaning casually against the wall in John's kitchen his hands in his pockets as he sullenly watched Clara flit about setting the place to rights, a pointed glare in John's direction.

"Clara please stop you don't need to do this."

"Yeah right cups don't clean themselves Doctor." The diminutive brunette mocked from her position stacking the dishwasher.

"I can do that myself…"

"Can is not the same as will!" Clara mockingly retorted, a fair amount of bite to her tone that John grudgingly admitted he deserved.

"When I ran out of clean ones I would have washed up."

"Yeah just like when you ran out of milk or food you went to the shops." Clara tutted and John could hear the eye roll in her tone.

"I would have done eventually." John insisted. "I did manage somehow to look after myself for fifty...urghhh four years before we met." He added grudgingly admitting to his real age, something he had always been somewhat hesitant about whenever Clara had asked, like his birthday he preferred to keep the exact details to himself, it avoided a fuss and parties that John never enjoyed anyway.

"I know but look I worry alright." Clara sighed turning back and fixing John with a look that made his stomach sink into his shoes, those damn brown eyes of hers all big and pleading. "I can't just turn it off like a tap even if you can."

"That is not true and you know it." John retorted ever conscious of their awkward audience. "And I am sorry I never said how much I appreciated your help over the last year but really it is time for you to stop now, you need to put yourself first for a change. Besides it will do me good to have things to do, keep me busy…"

"I'm sure Masaili will keep you more than occupied." Clara bit back spitefully before flushing her cheeks and biting her lip awkwardly. "Sorry that was…"

"Mean but deserved in the circumstances." John conceded swallowing down his pride.

"You know I half expected her to be here." Clara admitted shooting a guilty look at Danny who she had dragged into this mess as emotional back up just in case she did manage to catch sight of the woman who had taken her place in the Doctor's heart.

"I wouldn't move her in here like what we had meant nothing Clara." John sighed, his resolve weakening as those damn eyes turned glassy with tears.

"I wouldn't offer and she wouldn't ask…it's not…we're not…" Like that, at that point, going in that direction, none of those endings seemed to fit when John's first inclination was simply to abandon this big empty show piece of a house that no longer seemed to fit him anymore and simply squat in Missy's cosy little apartment for as long as he could get away with it.

That's if she would let him through the door right now?

Normally they would go for days without talking; they met up twice a week and in between times their lives were kept separate, even if John spent an inordinate amount of time with a certain brunette on his mind, an inevitable side effect of having her as muse for his latest creation. Yet they hadn't slept together before and John may have been relatively incompetent when it came to relationships but even the idiot that he was knew that sleeping with a woman and not calling her afterwards was asking for trouble.

Flowers…no maybe a poem…perhaps she'd prefer his balls on a platter…either way he had a few hours to work out something…

"Look just promise me you'll look after yourself." Clara's pleading voice brought John back to the present and he nodded along as one glare from Danny Pink assured him that not agreeing was not an option right now.

"Alright then, we've got everything loaded in Danny's car so I guess this is goodbye then." Clara added before reaching into her skirt pocket and placing a set of keys down on the kitchen table before leaning forward to press a brief chaste kiss to John's cheek.

When the uncomfortable moment lingered on too long for everyone involved Danny Pink cleared his throat and Clara jumped back as if burnt.

"Take care of yourself Doctor."

"You too Clara, live your life to the fullest, take that advice from a bitter old man alright?"

"Yeah sure." Clara nodded forcing a brave smile as she shoved her hands into her jacket pocket, yet now the moment to leave had actually arrived she was suddenly unsure if she was doing the right thing.

"Sorry Clara but I'd rather get going if we're going to get across town before the traffic starts to get bad…"

Frowning at such an obvious excuse John at least decided to play along, standing up and ushering his guests out of the kitchen and up the basement stairs to the front door. Yet when Danny opened it John was aghast to realise the sky was already darkening.

"Shit!" The expletive shot from his lips with such force that his companions literally stopped in their tracks.

Tugging on his clean hair John turned frantically to Clara who was eyeing him with open concern.

"Clara please tell me you were pulling my leg earlier when you said it was Thursday?" John clung to straws desperately, yet it obvious from Clara's expression that she hadn't been.

"Shit Shit Shit!" John repeated, glancing down at his watch that had misled him and confirming with a sinking knowing feeling as the second hand didn't move so much as a millimetre. His watch had stopped, he hadn't wound it in days and he hadn't even noticed it was so late, too late, far too late to make his standing date with Missy.

No phone call and now standing her up, no matter how accidentally…

Once upon a time John had joking thought that seeing Missy Saxon unleashed would be a sight worth seeing but the conditional statement to that was that she wasn't unleashed on him.

Forget balls on a platter Doctor John Smith was a dead man walking.

-/-


	9. Chapter 9

Crossroads

-/-

Footfalls echo in the memory, down the passage we did not take, towards the door we never opened, into the rose garden.

It was that particular T.S Eliot quote that was running through John Smith's mind as he sat knees practically wedged under his chin on the only available bit of back seat of Danny Pink's rusty VW Golf. He didn't even care about the uncomfortable press of that ugly shell lamp Clara had insisted on buying on one of their early trips away together, as it pressed its sharp edges into the soft spot under his ribs. All he could think about was what a complete idiot he had been and how close he was to closing off another door in his life, a passage barely stepped down, a possible future drifting out of reach and why? Because he was a self-indulgent fool.

He hadn't deserved Clara and right now his chances of ever deserving Missy Saxon were slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The former girlfriend in question was ensconced in the front passenger seat casting less than subtle glances back at him as John thrummed with nervous energy. Yet despite his efforts to contain himself John simply couldn't stop drumming his fingers against his legs or grating his teeth nervously. His hair was already a damn disaster area that probably had its own field of gravity by now he had mussed it up so much it stood at unnatural heights from his head without the aid of any product.

Come on come on come on.

It was a mantra kept under his breath as John glared at every traffic light that dared to turn red in his path before alternating to glare at the clock on the dashboard that seemed to mock him by ticking over far faster than should be possible.

Three forty five.

He was over an hour and a half late, Missy would never have waited that long John knew this with a certainty because he would never have waited that long but even so he had to check. When Danny's car finally drew into the right street John barely paused for the car to come to a stop before he was pulling open the door and stumbling out, long limbs snagging on the piles of Clara's possessions that were in his way.

Finally free John ran like he hadn't in years, practically colliding into the door of the little bakery which didn't give under his weight…Locked…Closed…

Banging hard on the door John refused to let up until someone answered. He needed to know if Missy had been there, how long ago she had left.

"Doctor I think they're closed…" Clara began her voice coloured with concern as she shared a worried look with Danny as the Doctor ignored her and continued to raise merry hell. "There is probably somewhere else open?"

The light coming on in the shop caused John to stop his frantic knocking.

"Can't you bloody read we're closed!" And angry voice called out from within.

"I know I'm sorry please you have to help!" John called out relieved when the blind was pulled up and he was face to face through the glass with a familiar face. "Hi there we haven't spoken directly but I come here every week and…."

"Yeah I recognise you." The baker replied with a huff, arms crossed in a clear sign of continued annoyance. "We're still closed even for regulars."

"But I don't want to buy anything." John snapped, regretting his harsh tone when the baker pulled away offended. "I mean…look I am just looking for someone, the brunette I am normally here with has she been in today?"

"The Scottish lass, the one with the cheekbones?" The baker clarified and when John nodded frantically he added reluctantly. "Aye she was in earlier didn't seem to be very happy when she left mind you."

Heart sinking as that piece of knowledge sank like a stone John could only swallow down the desire to swear long and loudly. "How long ago did she leave?"

"I am not her bloody social secretary." The baker retorted. "Look we shut up about half an hour ago so at least that long ago. Now is that all you wanted?"

"Yes thank you." John stuttered drawing back from the door surprised when the baker called out to him.

"Wait you normally sit in that little upstairs nook don't you?"

Nodding John was surprised again when the baker undid the chain and actually opened the door. "We found this on the table upstairs was going to put it in lost property for a while see if anyone claimed it and if not put it in our bookshelves…well one of the top ones…" he added with a blush. "But if you would care to return it for us?"

Passing out a dog-eared novel John took it gratefully turning it over to spy another French romance novel that tugged a smile from the corner of his mouth; this one had an equally provocative cover as the last one he had snooped on. "Yes I will. Thank you again." John added as the baker closed the door.

"Please tell me I didn't drive hell for leather across London to pick up a second hand book."

"Danny…"

"No Clara I agree to help you, not play taxi to your ex, I mean it I want to know what is going on here?" Danny insisted dark eyes flitting between John and Clara his frustration growing when no one seemed inclined to enlighten him. "What is all this about?"

"It's about a girl." Clara answered for the Doctor a pained smile pulling at her lips. "Isn't that what they always say Doctor, everything is in some way about a girl?"

"That is what they say." John answered rubbing his fingers over the worn cover of the paperback before tucking it away for safety inside his gabardine overcoat. "Look I am sorry I dragged you into this…I just panicked and I thought we might be in time…"

"Well you're not going to give up that easily are you?" Clara demanded her chocolate brown eyes now almost hard as they bore into him. After all this was the woman the Doctor had in effect ended their relationship for, it was bad enough that there was another woman in the first place but Clara's pride liked to think it wasn't simply some fling that had turned his head.

"No Clara I'm not but you shouldn't…I shouldn't have dragged you into any of this that is very wrong of me."

"Damn right you shouldn't have. How much more are you going to put her through?" Danny interjected quickly becoming offended on Clara's behalf. "You are sick in the head you know that?"

"Yeah I know that." John snorted finding perverse amusement in the accusation. "Look you are right you should go and I…" He trailed off glancing down the street trying to recall the route from here to Missy's office, she had told him once in casual conversation so he knew it was close by.

"We can give you a lift home?" Clara suggested softly ignoring Danny's snort of derision.

"No…No there is no need Danny is right you need to get on before the traffic becomes impossible and there is somewhere else I want to try first." John insisted firmly, before doing something that surprised himself and Clara both, reaching out and pulling her into an awkward hug.

"I'm sorry." He muttered into her hair, resisting the instinct to pull away as Clara's arms wrapped around his back and she returned his hug at least for as long as John could stand it.

"I know you are." Was her whispered reply and John felt a mixture of gratitude and sadness at her almost absolution as he pulled away.

"Take care of her." He all but ordered Danny who shot him an immediate look of disbelief before that harshness faded slightly as John held his gaze, eventually he conceded to the request with a brief nod.

Turning on his heel John strode away, refusing to look back as he tried to remember the snatches of a conversation from weeks prior, his hands jammed firmly in his pockets as a light drizzle began to trickle down from the now very grey sky.

"Well shall we…" Danny suggested, his heart sinking in his chest as Clara continued to watch the retreating figure of Doctor Smith as he strode off into the evening.

"Follow him." Clara's request was more of an order and Danny couldn't help but huff his disbelief.

"Clara no I thought you were…"

"I just need to make sure he's alright…"

"Bullshit you just want to see what she looks like." Danny retorted cutting through Clara's barely formed excuses.

"Fine that too. Can you really blame me?" Clara admitted tugging on fastened button of her duffle coat before turning those large pleading dark eyes on Danny. "Danny please?"

"Oh no don't you do that face." Danny groaned, running his hand over his face as the diminutive brunette continued to stare up at him with those eyes before throwing in a pout as well. "Ok fine you win but if we get caught then you are doing the explaining, similarly if we get stopped by the police…"

"Yeah yeah just get in the car." Clara teased rolling her eyes at his dramatics as she slipped back into the passenger seat, waiting for Danny to catch up. He really was such an adorable push over.

"Clara are you sure you want to do this?" Danny asked as he settled behind the wheel.

"Danny I…I can't explain it alright I just feel I have to…"

She couldn't really explain it; Danny was only part right she did want to know what this Marsaili looked like, even though she already had more than a little idea from the opening chapters of John's new book. Yet it was more than just curiosity or the need to confront the woman who had swooped in and stolen John's heart from under Clara's nose. Something in her gut was saying she needed to do this; Clara needed to be there for something important.

Even if that something was simply to pick up the pieces…

-/-

"What do you mean you won't give me her number?"

It had taken him ten minutes to locate Missy's office. In fairness he had only been there once before and at the time he hadn't exactly been trying to memorise the location since John had no intention of ever returning at the time. He had only gotten into the building by following in a courier who was obviously on a late pick up to one of the other offices located in the smart four-story townhouse.

So fine perhaps his sudden wild appearance in Missy's waiting room that caused Mary her timid secretary to jump out of her skin when he suddenly appeared in front of her, although his own natural lack of patience probably wasn't helping things either.

"Dr Saxon does not give out her personal contact information to clients. If you need to speak to her you will have to make an appointment." Mary insisted even as her hand crept towards the phone on her desk.

"But I am not a client." John exclaimed. "I'm a…her…look it's complicated but I need to speak to her."

"If you were a personal friend then you wouldn't need to ask me for her contact number." Mary insisted her plump cheeks flushed even as she tried to maintain a polite unflappable appearance.

"Now Sir I really do have to insist that you leave we are closed for the day. If you would like to make an appointment for after the holidays I can help you but otherwise I am afraid there is nothing I can do."

"But I can't wait until after the holidays!" John snapped tugging on his already wild hair. "Look you just call her and tell her that John Smith needs to talk to her; I know she will want to talk to me."

Biting down on her bottom lip at the imperial tone of his voice Mary bristled slightly at being ordered about by some strange man even if he did look slightly familiar, and the name certainly was, yet Mary was struggling to reconcile this wild ranting Scotsman with the soft wistful expression that graced her bosses face whenever she said the name John Smith…Besides it was a common enough name it could just be a coincidence?

"Please I am begging you." John swallowed down his pride, prepared even to get down on bended knee if it was necessary. "Please."

Slightly mollified by this change in attitude Mary found herself softening slightly. "Fine I will phone her but if she chooses not to talk to you then you agree to leave immediately? I mean it I will call the police if I have to have you removed."

"I do I swear!" John insisted crossing his heart and holding his fingers up in an approximation of a boy scout's promise as he tried to smile in what he hoped was an endearing manner but probably just came across as strained and uncomfortable.

"And you stand over there!" Mary added shooing him to one of the seats away from her desk.

Happy to agree to stand on one leg and pat his stomach whilst rubbing his head if that meant she would phone the bloody number John shifted back the required distance his hands wringing nervously as he watched Mary retrieve her Filofax and type in a number.

Holding his breath John waited for the call to connect, for Mary to start speaking and yet as he waited he felt his fear growing with every second longer it took…there was faint but definite…the ring of a mobile…a mobile behind the closed door of Missy's office.

Now that was petty and John felt a fury overtake him that refused to be controlled. Ignoring Mary's protest John rushed across the waiting room following the siren call of the ringing mobile he threw open the door to Missy's office. It appeared empty but there was no hiding the mobile phone that was lying on the desktop ringing away.

"Marsaili!" John called out tearing into the room and picking up the offending mobile, silencing the ringing phone with a deliberate jab to the touch screen.

"Marsaili I know you are here bloody well come out we need to talk!" He added storming across the empty room to pull open one of the two doors that led away from the office.

"I am calling the police!" Mary's threat echoed in from the outer office but John chose to ignore it pulling open the door and exposing a small functional bathroom, a mirror, sink and toilet…an empty functional bathroom.

Turning his attention to the other door John closed his fist around the handle, his suspicions growing when the door refused to shift, it was locked.

"Marsaili look please I can explain just come out and we can talk." John demanded his irritation growing as there was no forthcoming answer.

"You are acting like a child playing hide and seek!" He added hotly before regretting his tone slightly as he remembered just why Missy might have chosen to avoid him.

"Look just…I'm sorry ok…I was an idiot…I should have called, I know I should have called but I didn't not call in the way you think." John stumbled over his words, his hangover coming back to haunt him at the wrong moment and robbing him of his usual eloquence.

"And I didn't stand you up today…I know I didn't turn up but that is not the same, I was going to come, I wanted to come but I forgot to wind my watch and…" John broke off his excuses sounding pretty pathetic even to his own ears.

"Darling please…please just give me another chance I know I don't deserve it but I need…I need you."

That was the closest John could come to bearing his soul, to admitting to the churning maelstrom of feelings that Missy provoked in him and still nothing, was this woman made of forged steel? Banging his fist against the door John was trying to get a reaction any sort of reaction, he would rather Missy come out screaming at him than just keep avoiding him.

"Dammit woman open this damn door I am not leaving until you come out and tell me to leave yourself." John bellowed. "I will stay here all bloody night if I have to!"

"Actually sir I'm afraid you'll be coming with us this evening." A polite yet firm voice answered from behind him and John turned only to be confronted by two large uniformed police officers.

"Oh for fucks sake."

"Now there is no need for that sort of language sir." The older of the two officers reprimanded him before shooting a knowing look at his colleague. "Now have we been drinking today?"

"No…well not unless three O'clock in the morning bloody counts at this time of day and if you don't mind I am trying to have a private conversation!" John snapped turning his back on the police officers to glare at the offending door.

"With who are you having this conversation?" The younger officer quipped. "There doesn't seem to be anyone else here?"

"With whom!" John automatically corrected snarkily. "It's with whom, not with who! Clearly proper command of the English language is not a joining requirement for our boys in blue!"

"Are you being racist?" The younger officer countered and John frowned as he turned back, this time noting the slightly darker hue of the man's skin and the slight accent he spoke with.

"No I am simply picking up on your appalling command of the Queen's English regardless of where you hail from there is no excuse for sloppy grammar!"

"Oh well someone thinks he is a comedian alright." The older officer added with a less than impressed expression. "Well come along Mr Autocorrect even you should realise breaking and entering is a crime!"

"I didn't break and enter." John snapped. "I followed a courier in and then I simply requested to speak to my girlfriend."

"Your girlfriend?"

"Dr Marsaili Saxon." John clarified. "She works here."

"We are aware that this is Dr Saxon's premises but forgive me if I doubt your veracity when it comes to her being your girlfriend."

"Well ask her yourself she'll tell you!"

"That is a little difficult as her secretary tells me she has already left for the day…now why don't you come with us Sir and we'll help get this whole mess sorted out?"

"She hasn't left, this is her mobile!" John insisted waving the smartphone around. "She's in there!" He added pointed towards the looked door.

"And why would the lady in question lock herself in a cupboard?" The officer questioned.

"Because she's being difficult!" John snapped. "Because she is trying to avoid having this conversation. Because she wants to punish me for not calling! There are several options officer take your pick!"

"All of which point me in the direction that the lady in question wouldn't want you here even if she herself was indeed present."

"Were indeed present." John couldn't help himself even as he realised he was pushing his luck.

"Alright Sonny-Jim that's enough mucking about I'm arresting you for breaking and entering, you do not have to say anything…"

"Look you are making a mistake!" John insisted as the younger officer stepped forward to grasp his arm and John reacted automatically to the unsolicited touch and tried to jerk his arm away.

"Now there Sir we don't want to have to charge you with resisting arrest as well." The older officer spoke.

"Just don't touch me I don't like being touched!" John snapped backing up away from the two officers his hands held up in front of him warningly.

"Sir I am giving you one last chance come with us now or we will have no choice but to subdue you with force!"

Gritting his teeth John had no choice but to concede dropping his arms and reluctantly allowing the younger police officer to take his arm and turn him around and cuff his wrists together as they repeated the remainder of the arrest statement without further interruption from him.

"This isn't necessary please just talk to Marsaili…She's just in there…please!" John insisted stubbornly and the older officer turned to Mary.

"Madam it may make things go easier for all involved…"

"Of course." Mary replied disappearing for a moment before returning with a large bunch of keys in hand. Skirting around John she made her way to the door and slipped in a key, turning the lock she stood back to allow the older officer to open the door…

The cupboard was empty, all that it contained were some locked heavy looking filing cabinets, there was no chisel-boned Scotswomen hiding inside and John felt his cheeks burn with humiliation.

"I really genuinely thought…" John began pathetically the fight seeping out of him as he allowed the officer to lead him away, and to think that he had actually thought this day couldn't get any worse.

-/-

If someone had told Clara this morning as she girded her loins to return to the house she once shared with the Doctor and retrieve the rest of her belongings that she would spend the evening sat outside a police station Clara would have assumed it was because she was trying to bail out Danny for taking a swing at the Doctor, not because her ex-boyfriend had been arrested for breaking and entry with a side order of harassment.

"Well at least we don't have to worry about the traffic." Danny's sullen comment drew Clara back to the present and she shot a half amused, half sympathetic smile in his direction.

"Yeah."

"Do you want a coffee? I think there is a Costa down on the main road…" Danny asked as he watched the petite brunette hug herself tightly and the sad expression on her face all but broke his heart.

Oh who was he kidding Clara Oswald had been breaking his heart the moment he was introduced to her on his first day at Coal Hill. She was beautiful and funny and just perfect and Danny had been gearing up the courage to ask her out since the first time she fixed him a coffee in the staff room; and then he found out about the "boyfriend". Although to be honest boyfriend was stretching things were you had finally met the man in question. The Dr John Smith. Danny had spent his years in the army allowing those books to transport him away from whatever difficult situation he found himself in; to finally meet the author in person was such a disappointment.

John Smith was brilliant even broken down and useless even Danny could see that, there was something magnetic about him and so Danny could almost understand why Clara was finding it so difficult to let go. Over the last few months he had listened to her when she needed an ear to bend, such an idiot he was just so happy to have any of her time and attention even if it was spent listening her talk about another man. He had been naïve to think that just because Clara had in his opinion finally come to her senses that it meant she could ever see him as anything more than just her "friend".

If it came down to choosing between Danny and the Doctor he knew who she would chose and because he couldn't bear to lose her Danny stayed, he supported her, had her back even if it meant cancelling his own plans for the evening…Even if it meant having to watch her go back to a man that was no damn good for her, who didn't treat her like the diamond she was. Danny would stay, he would listen, he would be there because not being there for Clara Oswald simply felt alien to him now.

"Americano right? No su…"

"…sugar…van…"

"…vanilla syrup I know." Danny finished for her and Clara couldn't help the smile that he brought to her lips today of all days.

"Thank you." Clara whispered softly, reaching out and grasping Danny's hand when he went to simply brush off her thanks like it was nothing. "And I don't just mean for the coffee."

Blushing like a school boy Danny wrapped his casual indifference around him like a suit of armour. "Sure I know…I'll see if they have carrot cake as well."

"You're a treasure Danny Pink. You'll make someone a lovely wife one day." Clara teased as Danny beat a quick retreat, surprising herself at how the sudden thought of Danny married unsettled for some reason. She was just being silly and morbid, just because her relationships always seemed to turn into unmitigated disasters it didn't mean her friends were similarly cursed.

Now alone in the car Clara was able to allow herself to out the day in perspective. It really couldn't have gone much worse. Turning up at the house and finding the Doctor in that state had made her feel so guilty and then she had gotten so angry, angry at the Doctor and angry at herself for feeling guilty. He had cheated on her; he had broken her heart she owed him nothing….

So why are you wasting a Thursday night sat in a car outside of a police station waiting to be able to take him home?

Because nobody else would.

It was a simple answer and Clara had to wonder when she had ceased to be John's girlfriend and become his carer? The difference had never been put in clearer contrast than when they had been sat in Danny's car as they raced across London and the clock. The Doctor had looked…physically pained and yet animated…more animated than she had seen him in months and it wasn't down to her.

How many times had he forgotten a date they had made? Hundreds it had to have been and not once had he looked so distraught, not one single time!

Resisting the urge to punch and pound the car seat Clara settled for glaring out of the window, her gaze burning hotly into the oblivious people walking by, them with their probably perfect lives and…and…

Her…Clara knew it…she just knew it…something in her gut and the vestiges of her memory came striding forth as she watched a familiar long legged brunette emerge from the taxi approach the station entrance from the other direction.

Springing from the car like a greyhound from a trap Clara chased down the other woman who at first remained completely oblivious, then bright blue eyes flickered up from her phone her scowl of irritation fading as she met Clara's gaze and then Clara knew for certain as the flicker of recognition appeared in those bright blue depths.

"Marsaili." Clara greeted the older woman with barely veiled hostility, her teeth further set on edge when she had the nerve to smirk slightly those expressive blue eyes shifting from shocked to mocking.

"Well well well Miss Oswald fancy meeting you here."

-/-


	10. Chapter 10

Perseverance

-/-

When her home phone rang it had taken Missy Saxon a good few minutes to realise what that strange noise was and even longer to locate the handset, which it turned out had been buried under a pile of paperbacks that Missy had intended to sort through and drop off at the charity shop and hadn't quite gotten around to it yet…hadn't gotten around to it at any point in the last three years if she was being truly honest.

However after the momentary flush of success at finding the landline Missy had forgotten she even had, the emotional rollercoaster she seemed to be stuck on today took another stomach churning dip. It appeared one of her patients had somehow gotten into her office whilst Mary was there on her own and had ran rampage until the police had arrived and arrested him. Concerned for her secretary's wellbeing Missy had assured them she would be right down to press charges.

Cursing John Smith with one breath and patients who decided to go on a damn bender right before Christmas with the other Missy Saxon had finished shoving the clothing she was packing in her weekend bag, ensuring she had her passport safely in her purse as the waiting taxi beeped from the street. Then bag in hand she was out the door refusing to look back.

Perhaps it was cowardly to simply run away from her problems?

Missy couldn't help but recall another time, another hasty departure, when suitcase in hand she had chosen to flee in the middle of the night rather than face the consequences of her actions. No this time was different, this time she did have something to lose, she had a life here. Still Missy feared for her own safety and sanity if she stayed here. She wasn't running away she was leaving before she did something stupid, something she had no choice but to run from.

Like giving into the urge to track down where John Smith lived with his pretty little pet and setting it alight whilst they slept or giving into the growing hunger inside her for numb oblivion of certain chemicals and the satisfaction of mindless violence. Already her fingers were itching and Missy knew her strength of will was already strained to breaking point and if she stayed in London with all of its vices at her fingertips…

No John Smith may have broken her heart but she refused, refused to allow him to break the rest of her so easily. Missy needed to get away from here, from the bed that still smelt like John and the knowledge that somewhere only a few miles away was the man she had fallen for, the man who she had let her guard down for and yet had chosen another, that the other woman was technically his girlfriend was in Missy's opinion neither here nor there.

She didn't know where she was going to go. At the moment it was her intention to simply turn up at the airport and book herself on the next flight out. As long as it was to a city that didn't contain John Smith and little Miss Clara then it was fine with her but first there was this incident with the police to sort out.

Leaning her forehead against the cool glass of the taxi's window Missy allowed the sensation of the car's movement and the passing lights of London to numb her thoughts.

Just get through these next few hours…just hold on until you can get away, until there is no one watching and then you can scream yourself hoarse if that's what it takes to make this dreadful feeling go away Missy promised herself, fingernails digging harshly into the soft flesh of her palms as she fought to contain the demon that sought to burst free from her aching chest.

"That'll be £22.50 pet." The Cabbie's voice jolted Missy from her internal mantra and she was left scrambling for her purse, passing a twenty and a five pound note through to him, not waiting for the change as she opened the door and slipped out into the cold December night.

Wrapping her fashionable fur lined grey mac tighter around her body Missy did her best to manage her heavy bag and avoid stepping in any wet puddles and ruining her new charcoal grey suede heeled boots as she reached into her pocket as her personal mobile buzzed. It was a message from Mary, her secretary apologised for using her personal number and Missy all but snorted as a flicker of amusement managed to punch through the fog of despair that surrounded her. Other than an unneeded apology Mary was just letting her know that she already given her statement and was on her way home, she also reassured her boss that she was fine and it was more of a shock than anything.

Relieved that Mary hadn't actually been in any real danger Missy began to text back her reply, informing her secretary that she was grateful she had contacted her, that she was glad Mary was well wishing her a happy and less eventful holiday season and that Missy was going to go away until after the new year and she would see her back in the office on the 6th of January. Missy was so preoccupied with texting and keeping a firm lid of control on her simmering emotions that she didn't realise she was being stalked until the culprit was almost on top of her.

Her patience for any more surprises today spent Missy couldn't contain the irritation that leeched into her expression as she glanced up from her phone…yet instead of the drunk or randy chancer she was expecting Missy found herself face to face with a girl…no not a girl…

It took a moment for Missy's brain to catch up with what her eyes were telling her, large brown eyes, elfin features and a furious expression, full lips curled back in a snarl as she all but spat out a greeting that sounded like a slap across the face. "Marsaili."

Her name…her real name, he had told this child her real name!

Of all the mocking insults she could have levelled this was the worst, Missy reaction was instinctive pulling back from the tiny firebrand her lips twisting in a sneer as she pulled the tatters of her shattered dignity around her tightly as she did her thick coat. Attack was Missy's preferred form of defence and this slip of a girl already had her on the back foot ambushing her here…how she had even known, Missy's mind whirled ten to the dozen but each possibility seemed as unlikely as the other.

"Well well well Miss Oswald fancy meeting you here."

"Where else would I be?" Clara's retort was instant and she clenched her fists as the older woman stared down at her in mocking blankness. "Did you really think I would just abandon him when he needed me?"

"Him?" Missy couldn't help the frown that creased her brow…him…it was like the last pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

"John?" Could it have been John who had broken into her office? That would certainly explain Miss Oswald's presence here but why would he?

"Of course John." Clara snapped back her irritation with the older woman growing, especially at the familiar way the Doctor's real name seemed to fall from those painted lips with such ease whilst Clara had been using his nickname for so long it seemed wrong and alien to call him anything else. "How could you do this to him?"

"Do what to him?" Missy snorted. "I haven't done anything to him!" She added angrily thrusting her mobile back into her pocket.

"Save use him and break his heart and then to top it all off having him arrested!" Clara retorted brown eyes blazing. "Is this some sort of a game to you, just how many other men have you tormented like this? Leading them on and then dropping them when you've had your fun."

"Tormented him? Dropping him?" Missy sneered. "Do not make me laugh little girl. If anyone is playing a game here it is you and your boyfriend. Did the pair of you have a good laugh about it? I mean after you forgave him for fucking around. I suppose he put all the blame on me and you believed him. Only I bet he didn't tell you that he didn't so much as mention you existed until after he took me to bed."

"What?" Clara could only stutter in disbelief. "You are unbelievable…You knew I existed you met me remember? At the award dinner, you sat at the same table as me and...and the doctor." Clara still couldn't help it, it was just habit to refer to him that way as ever since she known him the Doctor had rebuked anyone who used his given name, and it grated on her that Missy seemed to have no such problem.

"Have you no sense of shame or decency? How could you have done that to sit at the same table as me whilst all the time…all the time you were trying to steal him away?"

"I sat at a table with a man I had met once before." Missy corrected Clara icily. "Once!" She added as Clara's eyes widened in shock. "He chose to follow me that time I didn't force him to do anything he didn't want Miss Oswald, and he told me you were just a friend."

"No…no…he wouldn't…" Clara began only for Missy to sigh and try to push past her. "No you must have known…A woman always knows…"

"I suspected." Missy conceded as the irritating little brunette dogged her steps. "But I didn't want my suspicions confirmed so I didn't ask and he didn't tell." She paused turning her assessing blue gaze to meet the furious burning brown that bore into her. "I suppose you'll find a way to make that my fault as well?"

"You should…you should have…" Clara struggled for the words unable to believe the coldness of the woman before her. Was this the type of woman the Doctor really wanted? Regal and icy and untouchable by anything, least of all basic human decency.

"Should have asked?" Missy prompted rolling her eyes as the younger woman nodded indignantly.

"Why? Asking would have meant confronting a problem I was hoping to avoid and besides I don't recall owing you anything. I wasn't the one in a relationship with you Miss Oswald he was…is…" Missy stumbled over the semantics unable to contain the angry flush that escaped her control and let slip a fraction of her own anger and pain.

"It's called being a decent human being." Clara retorted. "Why am I not surprised you are unfamiliar with the concept?"

"Personally I fail to see what the two of us standing in the bloody cold insulting each other and arguing about this is going to solve? It is done, he cheated on you with me the end no going back and changing things and clearly it is something you can get past otherwise you wouldn't still be here. Now if you don't mind Miss Oswald there are places I would much rather be…"

"How can you be so cold?

"Because I have to be, because life is hard and cruel and love is the biggest lie of them all." Missy added bitterly before she could stop herself, she shouldn't be stood here engaging this child in conversation, in an argument she could never win. "Because it's done, it's over, and now we can all get on with our lives or at least we could do if you would stop blocking my way and let me get on with what I am here to do!"

"To punish him?" Clara hissed. "Haven't you hurt him enough already? He was a mess when I found him, twelve months work holding him together undone by a selfish bitch like you and now when he really needs someone's help, your help, you're just going to abandon him?"

"Me abandon him?" Missy scoffed shaking her head as she tried to follow the girl's warped logic, unable to keep a check on her own heartbreak, damn the girl to hell couldn't she just let her be? Wasn't winning enough for her, did she need to dig the knife in and twist it, did she expect Missy to grovel her apologies and simply let John off scot free for breaking her heart?

"You can't go in there and give them a statement that will let them charge him." Clara insisted. "He didn't mean to frighten your secretary he's not a danger to anyone but he's not well, you know that and I know that, he needs help not incarceration if that's not abandoning…"

"How is waiting for him to call for four days abandoning him? How is me still turning up for our date even after he didn't call abandoning him? Besides isn't this what you want Clara, for me to quit the field without a fight? You can have him all to yourself again I won't fight a losing battle and surrender what is left of my dignity trying to keep a man that clearly doesn't respect me enough to even pick up a bloody phone to tell me it's over!"

So that was it, for a moment the simplicity of it left Clara reeling…She didn't know…Missy didn't know that Clara had left him after the Doctor had ended their relationship and part of her crowed inside at that knowledge. All she had to do was do nothing and Missy would destroy whatever chance she had with John the moment she stepped inside that police station and pressed charges against him. The Doctor would never forgive her for betraying him like that and Clara…Clara could…

Clara could only watch as the older woman sighed and rubbed a hand across her eyes brushing barely formed tears away, red tipped fingernails digging in the bridge of her nose as Missy struggled to contain her emotions. So the ice queen did have feelings after all. That was a shattering revelation and one that Clara struggled to accept, she had never thought that Missy might actually love him back.

She wanted to hate her…no she did hate her but not for the same reasons she had started out hating her…

Oh Clara still resented Missy for coming along and turning the Doctor's head, for shattering the dream of a future that Clara had still nursed deep in her heart. Yet now at least she could accept that was all it had been a delusion. There was no happy ending in that relationship, not for her, not anymore. Oh she could stick around and pick up the pieces of the Doctor after Missy's betrayal had shattered him but neither of them would be happy, Clara would always know she was second best and the Doctor…

Shuddering at the thought of having him look at her and see somebody else instead…of whispering he loved her when really it was another woman he held in his heart.

"Do you love him?"

"How is that any of your bloody business?" Missy spat back, fingernails leaving bloody grooves in her palms as she swallowed down the desire to shove this annoying little pest out of her way.

"Because if you really do love him you couldn't bring yourself to hurt him, you would want to help him even if it doesn't benefit you."

"What could you possibly know about real love little girl? What do you know about me? Nothing that is what! You assume I am here to punish John because that's what you would do in my position but do not taint me with your failings." Missy mocked tear stained blue eyes opening. "Love is pain and loss and it eats you up from the inside. It destroys you and nothing is ever alright again, the only ones with the power to destroy you are those you love. The greatest atrocities the world has ever seen have been carried out in the name of love but I have no intention of adding to them today so there is no need for this little heart to heart. You win."

"And the greatest acts of compassion and bravery." Clara countered meeting Missy's gaze with unflinching courage. "Of course if you don't love him…"

"Shut up!" Missy hissed. "Just shut up. My feelings are my own. I won't be patronised and lectured by you!"

"Well tough you are going to listen to me!" Clara retorted her chin trembling as she fought with herself, with the selfish part of herself that screamed at her to stop, that the Doctor could still be hers.

"Because I do love him and because I love him I won't let you walk away and break his heart. Do you have any idea what that feels like to love someone and have to face the realisation that it is somebody else that brings them to life? To have to watch as they become animated and alive just at the thought of them? That's the hell I have been living through the last few weeks because of you. Every time he was with you he would come home a different person, he was happy and it wasn't because of me."

"Do you expect me to apologise?"

"No I expect you to keep on doing it!" Clara retorted silencing Missy and actually knocking the disdainful expression from her face as the older woman looked at her like she was seeing a ghost.

"Is this some sort of a joke?" Missy finally found her voice, yet the sound of it was weak and tremulous to her own ears. "Do you get some sick sort of satisfaction from baiting me?"

"He's in love with you. He won't admit it, he probably doesn't even realise it himself yet." Clara carried out, knowing she had to keep going or she would lose her nerve. "But he needs you and he wants you…"

"Yes because his resounding silence really supports that theory…"

"So he's an idiot." Clara countered. "He's a man." She added as if that was all the supporting evidence that was needed. "I don't know why he didn't call, I can't answer that only he can, but I do know that he tried to make your date today and then when he was too late he went to your office because he was terrified of you thinking he hadn't intended to turn up."

"And that's why…" Groaning as the pieces of information now seemed to make some sort of sense. Oh the bloody idiot, did he actually think rushing in like a steamroller and badgering Mary was going to achieve anything? "Oh that stupid…infuriating man."

Blinking away the watery film that had settled over her eyes Missy decided she had already cried enough today because of John Smith and she settled her too bright blue gaze on Clara who looked as though she had swallowed something unpleasant. "Why?"

"Why what?" Clara evaded that blue gaze was suddenly too piercing.

"Why are you helping me?"

"I'm not I'm helping him." Clara replied softly, a sad smile pulling at her lips. "I love him, I am angry as hell at him right now and you and part of me wants to see you both miserable and alone but then what would be the point of that? All this pain and hurt for nothing? And…you make him happy something I haven't done in a very long time."

Biting her lip Missy hated to admit the girl had a point, she hated to admit Clara was undoubtedly a far better person than Missy could ever hope to be, and she hated now knowing just why John had stayed with her so long. If other woman were her thing than Missy would have to admit Clara Oswald was a diamond, strong and beautiful… "And if I did love him…"

"Then love him and look after him and never let him go." Clara retorted her brown eyes hard and fierce. "And don't you dare ever hurt him!"

"Or you'll come after me?" Missy scoffed lightly yet she wasn't really joking and she knew neither was Clara.

"If I have to." Clara replied lightly yet there was nothing playful about her tone or the look she levelled Missy. "Now don't you have some damage limitation to do?" She added with a pointed nod towards the police station.

Bowing her head in an almost respectful nod Missy had to grudgingly admit the girl had balls. In other circumstances they might even have been friends. Yet the world was as it was and Missy was still struggling to process all that Clara had told her, struggling with her damn heart that had started to beat double time in her chest as Clara had told her the real reason why John had been at her office. Could she take the chance, could she allow herself believe, to hope?

Leaving Clara Oswald standing in the street Missy Saxon entered the police station with her head held high, fixing the desk sergeant with her most charming confident smile. "Good Evening Officer I'm Doctor Marsaili Saxon I've come help clear up a little misunderstanding…"

Watching from outside Clara Oswald could only wrap her arms tightly around herself, taking several deep breaths as she fought for control. There it was over it was done. The Doctor was someone else's responsibility now. It should have been a relief and in some way it was but it also meant having to admit that it was over, for good this time.

"Clara what are you doing out here? You'll catch your death."

The genuine concern in Danny Pink's voice caused Clara to smile and laugh and cry all at once, surprising the handsome young man by wrapping her arms around his torso and hugging him tightly even as Danny stared down at her, cursing his hands which awkwardly full with two large coffees and a box of cake.

"Thank you for being here Danny Pink." Clara muttered into Danny's firm chest, smiling as she felt her friend sort of hug her back, at least resting his cheek on the top of her head. "Thank you for being you."

Swallowing down the awkward lump in his throat Danny only hoped that his voice sounded normal as his heart literally beat out a samba in his chest. "I'll always be here for you Clara Oswald." He whispered softly, pleased when that caused her face to light up in genuine delight.

"Take me home?" Clara asked hopefully.

Smiling in relief Danny could only nod, "I thought you would never ask." He replied risking rejection as he pressed an impetuous kiss to Clara's forehead, causing her to blink in surprise before a shy hesitant smile crept across her lips.

Following a now embarrassed Danny towards his car Clara allowed her fingers to reach up and touch the spot where Danny had kissed her. The skin under her fingers was all hot and tingly, and despite the circumstances she couldn't help but smile as her stomach did a little flutter. It was much too soon to think of such things, her heart still ached but Clara Oswald couldn't help but notice that when Danny Pink turned and smiled at her, that shy sweet little boy smile of his, that her heart somehow ached a little less.

-/-

It wasn't the worst experience of his life, far from it in fact. John Smith knew what real fear felt like and this was nowhere close but it had come close to being one of the most humiliating.

When he had arrived at the station and had been forced to relinquish his belt and watch, even the laces of his shoes had been taken from him. At least he had been spared the indignity of a strip search even if he had had to undergo a alcohol breath test which had fortunately come back under the legal limit, the last thing John needed right now was an additional charge of being drunk and disorderly on top of everything else.

Yet it was being forced to sit there whilst complete strangers poked and prodded his private life with a prying sceptical gaze that truly made John squirm. His solicitor had arrived in a timely fashion and that was another thank you John undoubtedly owed Clara, not that the gentleman in question looked pleased about being dragged out on a cold December evening. Still John paid him enough and he was worth every penny as John could see the officers getting more frustrated as his brief battered away their most leading questions like the professional he was.

Even so John hadn't been released but returned to the cold impersonal cell, the bench with its wipe clean plastic mattress and the locked door. There John had sat staring at the damn door his mind in a constant state of turmoil as he went over and over the events of the last few days. What a mess he had made of things again. He should have called Missy before he got wrapped up in his work. He shouldn't have wallowed in the mess he had made of his life and allowed his guilt to lead him to drowning it in the bottom of a bottle.

"Wakey wakey Mr Smith." Startled by the sudden noise John bit back the instinctive retort that it was Doctor Smith thank you very much. Don't bait the police he had learned that much at least in the last few hours, the boys in blue didn't have a sense of humour…well not his sense of humour.

Standing up John shuffled to the front of the cell, relieved when the door opened and he was able step outside and back into his laceless shoes. Now at least mostly dressed and looking more like himself John followed placidly out of the cellblock, surprised when he wasn't led back into an interview room but back to the custody sergeant's desk.

"Your belongings Dr Smith." The custody sergeant spoke to him pushing a familiar large plastic bag across the desk. "If you would please check and sign that they are being returned to you intact?"

Nodding John emptied them out onto the wooden desktop, the damn watch that had been the catalyst in the whole situation had stopped ticking again and John made a mental note to take to it to his man in town to get it looked at. Even though it had stopped John felt better for strapping it back onto his wrist, less naked, more like himself. The belt followed and then the shoe laces, John threading them carefully back into the right holes and ensuring they lay flat as he tied them neatly.

"So what happens now?" John asked genuinely confused, his belongings had been returned to him so clearly he wasn't returning to the cell but no one had yet explained what he was being charged with.

"We are releasing you with a caution Dr Smith, another witness has spread additional light on the situation and considering the extenuating circumstances…"

John tuned out the rest of the spiel, his brief would undoubtedly send him a long boring expensive letter detailing the fine print but as of right now John could only focus on the fact that he was being let go without charge.

"If you would like to follow the constable I believe your partner is waiting in reception."

Clara…the very thought of having to go out there and face her after everything almost had John requesting a return visit to the cells. Yet now was not the time for cowardice, even if John didn't exactly feel up to voicing even one of the many apologies he now owed Clara Oswald. His head hung in shame he followed the constable through the double doors and down the long corridor to freedom, taking a deep breath as the young man swiped the door that led to the public reception and John followed him through.

"Here you are Ma'am all ready to go."

Turning his head in the direction the police officer was speaking it was the pointed boots that caused John to stop and frown, suede moulded to long…long legs…following the curves John could feel his heart skip a beat in his chest…a glimpse of knee and thigh and then a thick cream kilted skirt. Charcoal grey silk poked out from beneath a fur trimmed grey coat…yet it was those eyes that really captivated him, those bright blue eyes staring at him with a look that would have terrified most mortal men yet for John Smith the simply joy of seeing her here overrode all common sense.

"Marsaili." He breathed the name almost reverently unable to believe what his eyes were telling him. He had to be dreaming, perhaps he had fallen asleep in that cell of his and his addled brain was tormenting him with things that could never come true.

She had wanted to be mad at him, in fact Missy had decided to play it cool and detached, let John Smith have a taste of how it felt to be neglected and uncertain for once. Then John had walked through that damn door and curse her stupid heart it had pounded in her chest, swelling in sympathy for how dejected he seemed, more like a lost little boy than the brash man that she had taken into her bed and into her heart. Then he had looked up at her and for a moment she could have sworn his entire mind was an open book in those eyes of his. Even hidden by the hideous thick glasses he was currently sporting there was no hiding the delight and relief on John's face when he caught sight of her there waiting for him and that melted her resistance a bit…hell fine a lot…

Making a point of fussing with her bag and coat Missy did what she could to avoid looking into those eyes. She was mad at him, she had a right to be mad at him and it wouldn't do for John Smith to realise this early in the game all he had to do to win her over was look at her like that.

However that was before he said her name, just hearing that low silky voice of his caressing her name made her skin goosebump in appreciation and Missy couldn't help but meet his gaze and smile. Perhaps this time she could leave the game playing for another day? It suddenly didn't seem quite as important to even the score as it was to keep that look on John's face when he looked at her…she never wanted him to stop looking at her like that…not ever…

Getting to her feet Missy picked up her bag and crossed the brief space between them reaching out for his hand she slipped her fingers between those long dexterous digits that she adored, feeling that familiar spark that shivered through her whenever they touched.

"Come on let's get you home."

Tightening his grip on Missy's hand John couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips, contorting his face into an unaccustomed expression that took years off of him as his blue eyes glinted mischievously. This was real, she was real and John had to fight the urge to kiss her, nosy police officers be damned. He never normally got a second chance but it seemed fate was finally smiling on him and John was going to take what he was being offered with both hands, no longer wasting time with regret.

"And what will you do with me when we get there?" He teased, unable to resist the urge to touch her as his free hand reached up to cup her cheek, marvelling at the fine curve of her cheekbone beneath his fingertips.

"Punish you in some wicked way." Missy deadpanned yet there was no hiding the playful twinkle in her eyes as she grew impatient and dragged John towards the door meaning the eavesdropping Police Officers had to strain their ears to catch his reply.

"Hmmm I cannot think of anything better."

-/-

Next story in the series https://archiveofourown.org/works/5730088/chapters/13203802


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